The Idiot

THE IDIOT

THE NOVELS OF FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

Translated from ibe Russian b; COKSTAKCE
GARKETT, Crown 8vo,

THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV

THE IDIOT

THE POSSESSED

CRIME AKD PUNISHMENT

THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD

THE INSULTED AND INJURED

A RAW YOUTH

THE ETERNAL HUSBAND

THE GAMBLER AND OTHER STOWES

WHITE NIGHTS

AN HONEST THIEF

TEE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

THE

Translated from
the Rjissian by

CONSTANCE GARNETT

'"•'TbhupaT^^

ug

/5/S.^.

ODAIPUV-

-vr-'''

WILLIAM HEINEMANN LTD
MELBOURNE . LONDON . TORONTO

PART I

CHAPTER I

A t nine o’clock in the morning, towards the end of November,
the Warsaw train was approaching Petersburg at full speed.
It was thawing, and so damp and foggy that it was difficult to
distinguish anting ten paces from the line to right or left of the
carriage windows. Some of the passengers were returning from
abroad, but the third-class compartments were most crowded,
chiefly with people of humble rank, who had come a shorter
distance on business. AH of course were tired and shivering,
their eyes were heavy after the night’s journey, and all their
faces were pale and yellow to match the fog.

In one of the third-class carriages, two passengers had, from
early dawn, been sitting facing one another by the window.
Both were young men, not very well dressed, and travelling with
little luggage; both were of rather striking appearance, and both
showed a d^ire to enter into conversation. If they had both
known what was remarkable in one another at that moment, they
would have been surprised at the chance which had so strangely
brought them opposite one another in a third-class carriage of
the Warsaw train. One of them was a short man about twenty-
seven, with almost black curly hair and small, grey, fiery eyes.
He had a broad and flat nose and high cheek-bones. His thin
lips were continually curved in an insolent, mocking and even
malicious smile. But the high and well-shaped forehead re-
deemed the ignoble lines of the lower part of the face. What
was particularly striking about the young man’s face was its
death-like pallor, which gave him a look of exhaustion in
spite of Ms sturdy figure, and at the same time an almost pain-
fMly passionate expression, out of keeping with his coarse and
insolent smile and the hard and conceited look in Ms eyes.
He was warmly dressed in a full, black, sheepskin-lined overcoat,
and had not felt the cold at night, while Ms shivering neighbour
had been exposed to the cMll and damp of a Russian November
night, for wMdi he was evidently unprepared. He had a fairly
tiiick and full cloak with a big hood, such as is often used in
winter by travellers abroad in Switzerland, or the Norffi of Italy,
who are not of course proposing such a journey as that from
Eydtkuhnen to Petersburg. But what was quite suitable and ^

I

satisfactoiy in Italy turned out not quite sufficient for Russia.
The owner of the cloak was a young man, also twenty-six or
twenty-seven years old, above the average in height, with very
fair thick hair, with sunken cheeks and a thin, pointed, almost
white beard. His e 5 'es were large, blue and dreamy; there was
something gentle, though heavy-looking in their expression,
Eometlung of that strange look from which some people can
recourse at the first glance a victim of epilepsy. Yet the young
man s face was pleasing, thin and clean-cut, though colourless,
Md at tins moment blue with cold. He carried a little bundle
° faded silk handkerchief, apparently containing
f ^Ck-soled shoes and gaiters, aU

H'^£“k-haired neighbour in the^heepskin
observed all ^s, partly from having nothing to do, and at last,

^^offier satisfaction at the misfortunes
expreSed^ he aS”d^“ “ unceremoniously and casually
"Chilly?"

And he twitched his shoulders

I „pe« «

"From abroad, eh?”

"Yes, from Switzerland.”

andjaughed^”'^ ^ dark-haired man whistled

JSfcIo" k y-ms ™n in

remarkable. He betrSrd jifsiS^; companion’s inquiries was
tmence of some of his^ misplaced extreme imper-

him he had been a long Shil? f ® ‘i^^tions. He told
Russia, tiiat he had been sent abroaH fn°v,^ years, away from
of a strange nervous disease somethin 1 health on account
or St. Vitus’s dance, attacks opilepsy

dark man smiled several tim“ ^ *^"‘^.^®'"bling. The

specially when, in answer 1o hi= • laughed,

they cured you?” hk ^ inquiry: "Well have

fsi &'£rK£ed’

"Perfectly true!” im ’

-terposed a badly-dressed, heavily-buOt

man of about forty, with a red nose and pimpled face, sitting
beside them.

He seemed to be some sort of petty ofBcial, with the typical
failings of his class. "Perfectly true, tliey only absorb all the
resources of Russia for notliing!"

"Oh, you are quite mistaken in my case!” the patient from
Switzerland replied in a gentle and conciliatory voice. "I can’t
dispute your opinion of course, because I don't know all about
it, but my doctor shared his last penny with me for the journey
here; and he’s been keeping me for nearly two years at his
expense.”

"Why, had you no one to pay for you?” asked the dark
man.

"No; Mr. Pavlishtchev, who used to pay for me there, died
two years ago. I’ve written since to Petersburg, to Madame
Epancliin, a distant relation of mine, but I’ve had no answer.
So I've come. . . .”

"Where are you going then?”

"You mean, where am I going to stay? ... I really don’t
know yet. . . . Somewhere. . . .”

"You’ve not made up your mind yet?” And both his
listeners laughed again.

"And I shouldn’t wonder if that bundle is all you’ve got in
the world?” queried the dark man.

"I wouldn’t mind betting it is,” chimed in the red-nosed
ofBcial with a gleeful air, "and that he’s nothing else in the
luggage van, though poverty is no vice, one must admit.”

It appeared that this was the case; the fair-haired young man
acknowledged it at once with peculiar readiness.

"Your bundle has some vMue, anyway,” the petty official
went on, when they had laughed to their heart's content (strange
to say, the owner of the bundle began to laugh too, looking at
them, and that increased their mirth), "and though one may
safely bet there is no gold in it, neither French, German, nor
Dutch — one may be sure of that, if only from the gaiters you
have got on over your foreign shoes — ^yet if you can add to your
bundle a relation such as Madame Epanchin, the General’s lady,
the bimdle acquires a very different value, that is if Madame
Epanchin really is related to you, and you are not labouring
under a delusion, a mistake that often happens . . , through
excess of imagination.”

"Ah, you’ve guessed right again,” the fair young man
assented. "It re^y is almost a mistake, that’s to say, she is

3

zlxnc/st no relatira; so much so that I really vrzs not at all stir-

<?&*+inrr T* T ^

anyTTay you are straightfoTTrard aud simple-hearted, and tfaat^s
to yonr credit. H'm ! . . . I fcnovr Gsaeral Epanchin, for he

ier o T a_ t 1 t~i 1»_* « _-t

Ihscoiay Andr^'evitch Pavlishtchev, for there were two of them,
coasins. The other LH-es in tbs Ciiraea, The late Kikolay
Andrej-c'dtoh was a worthy man and well connected, and he’d
foar thoirsand serfs in his day. . , ,”

"That’s ri^t, liikolay Andre^/evitch was his name.’’

And^ a= he answered, the yonng man looked intently and
searcnmgly at the omnhdemt gentleman,

Snch omnisde-nt gentlemen are to be fctmd pretty often in a
«rtam ^tom of ^'ety. Tney know everythme. AU the rest-
less ctinraty aad lacnlties of their minds axe irresistibly bent
m one dir^on no donbt from lack of more irntwrtant ideas
^ to-day would ejrplain. But

must be taken in a ratheu-

^e is and what d™ she’brou^t'hii^: "who are
^.Ts^d who are his s^ond couBns, and eyerytlSg of tiS

to ima^e their motive. Yet ° oe at a Joss

solatioT mt of tSs

science, and to a complete

mate goal, and hav'e ^

^ fe -v_ mG«a nuoe their career only by means

ha?1SI dark votmc man

mg witoout hearing and lo^Wnr^rT^P'^tobelEten-
iaug.u sometimr^nclknowing^irlf.?''^ se^g. He would
mg at. or forgettmg, wnat he was lan^’h-

4

"Excuse me, whom have I the honour" ... the pimply
gentleman said suddenly, addressing the fair young man with
the bundle.

"Prince Lyov Nikolayevitch Mj^hkin is my name,” the latter
replied with prompt and unhesitating readiness.

"Prince RIyshkin? Lyov Nikolayevitch? I don’t know it.
I don’t believe I've ever heard it,” the ofBcial responded,
thoughtfully. "I don’t mean the surname, it's an historical
name; it’s to be found in Karamzin’s History, and with good
.reason; I mean you personally, and indeed there are no Prince
Myshkins to be met an5rwhere, one never hears of them.”

"I should think not,” Myshidn answered at once, "there are
no Prince Myshkins now except me; I believe I am the last of
them. And as for our fathers and grandfathers, some of them
were no more than peasant proprietors. My father was a sub-
lieutenant in the army, yet General Epanchin’s wife was some-
how Princess Myshkin; she was the last of her lot, too. . . .”

"He-he-hel The last of her loti He-hel how funnily you
put it,” chuckled the official.

The dark man grinned too. Myshkin was rather surprised
that he had perpetrated a joke, and indeed it was a feeble one.

"Believe me, I said it without thinking,” he explained at last,
wondering.

"To be sure, to be sure you did,” the official assented good-
humouredly.

"And have you been stud5dng, too, with the professor out
there, prince?” asked the dark man suddenly.

"Yes ... I have.”

"But I’ve never studied anything.”

"Well, I only did a little, you know,” added Myshkin almost
apologetically. "I couldn’t be taught systematically, because
of my illness.”

"Do you know the Rogozhins?” the dark man asked quickly.

"No, I don’t know them at all. I know very few people
in Russia. Are you a Rogozhin?”

"Yes, my name is Rogozhin, Parfyon.”

"Parfyon? One of those Rogozhins . . .” the official began,
with increased gravity.

"Yes, one of those, one of the same,” the dark man inter-
rupted quickly with uncivil impatience. He had ,not once
addressed the pimply gentleman, indeed, but from the beginning
had spoken only to Myslikin.

"But . . . how is that?” The official was petrified with

amazemeat and bis e'ves seemed almost staning put of bis head.
His v.-bole face immeoiateh' assumed an cxpre^ion of
^ c^'^•ilit^- almost of awe. "Related to tnc Semj-on Parf^o-
viteb Rogozbin, ■prbo died a month ago and left a fortune of two

and a half million roubles?” , i, ir

"And how do j'ou know he left two and a haU
the "dark interrapled, not deigning even now to glance

towards the omdal. . , . . v-_

"Look at him!” he winked to Mj-shkm, mmcatmg him.
"ViTiat do thev gain by cringing upon one at once? But it s
true that my father has been dead a month, and here I ain.
cornin'^ toms from Pskov olinoat vdth,out boot^ to in\ feet.
broths, the rascal, and my mother haven’t sent me a penny
nor a word— nothing! As if I were a dog ! I’ve been hang ill
with fever at Pskov for the last month.”

"And now von are coming in for a tidy imliion, at the lowest
reckoning, oh! Lord!" the oSdal Sang up his hands.

"^^'hat is it to him, tell me that?” said Rogoahin, nodding
irritably and angrily towrirds him again. "Why" I am not going
to give'yon a farthing of it, you may stand on vunr head before
me, if V’oa like.”

"I wOl, I win."

"You see! Bnt I won’t give you anj-lhing, I won’t, if yoa
dance for a whole week."

"^Ven, don't! Why should vun? Don’t! But I shall dance,

I g'naTl leave my wife and lilSe children and dance before juu.

1 must do homage! I must!”

"Hang you!” the dark man spat. "Hve weeks aco. like
v-oa with nothing hut a handle," he said, addressing the"prince,
'•T. ran away from my father to my aunt’s at Pskov. And there
I fen lE and he died whSe I was awav. He kidred the bucket.
Eternal memorv- to the deceased, bat he almost killed me!
Woald yoa believe it, prince, yes, by God! If I hadn’t run
away then he would have kflled me on the spot.”

•‘Did yon make him veiv’ angry?” asked tte ^nce. looking
with speoal interest at the miliionaire in the sheepskin. But
tliongh th^ may have been something remarkable in the
midion an^d in coming into an inheritance, M\shkin was sur-
pnsed and interested at something else as weH.' And Rogorhin
himseh_for some ^n talked readOy to the prince, though in-
deed n^ of co^ersahon seemed rather phvsical than
Preo^pation than filnkncss, from
.gitauon ana exatement, for the sake of looking at someone

6

and exercising his tongue. He seemed to be still iU or at least
feverish. As for the petty official, he was simply hanging on
Rogozhin, hardly daring to breathe, and catching at each word
as though he hoped to find a diamond.

“Angry he certainly was, and perhaps with reason,” answered
Rogozhin, "but it was my brother’s doing more than anything.
My mother I can't blame, she is an old woman, spends her time
reading the lives of the saints, sitting with old women; and what
brother Semyon says is law. And why didn’t he let me know
in time. I understand it! It’s true I was unconscious at the
time. They say a telegram was sent, too, but it was sent to
my aunt. And she has been a widow for thirty years and she
spends her time with crazy pilgrims from morning till night.
She is not a nun exactly, but something worse. She was
frightened by the telegram and took it to the police station
without opening it, and there it lies to this day. Only Vassily
Vassilitch Konyov was the saving of me, he wrote me all about
it. At night my brother cut off the solid gold tassels from the
brocaded pall on my father’s coffin. 'Think what a lot of money
they are worth,’ said he. For that alone he can be sent to Siberia
if I like, for it’s sacrilege. Hey there, you scarecrow,” be turned
to the official, “is that the law — is it sacrilege?”

“It is sacrilege, it is,” the latter assented at once.

“Is it a matter of Siberia?”

"Siberia, to be sure! Siberia at once.”

“They think I am still ill,” Rogozhin went on to Myshkin,
“but without a word to anyone, I got into the carriage, ill as I
was, and I am on my way home. You’ll have to open the door
to me, brother Semyon Serayonovitch 1 He turned my father
against me, I know. But it’s true I did anger my father over
■^Nastasya Filippovna. That was my own doing. I was in fault
there.”

“Over Nastasya Filippovna?” the official pronounced with
servility, seeming to deliberate.

“Why, you don’t know her 1 ” Rogozhin shouted impatiently.

“Yes, I do!” answered the man, triumphantly.

“Upon my word ! But there are lots of Nastasya Filippovnas.
And what an insolent brute you are, let me tell you I I knew
some brute like this would hang on to me at once,” he continued
to Myshkin. ,

“But perhaps I do know!” said the official, fidgeting.
“Lebedyev knows! You are pleased to reproach me, your
excellency, but wliat if I can prove it? Yes, I mean that very

7

Nastasya Hlippo%na, on account of whom ymt parent tndi to
rive you a l4on with his stick. Nastas>'a HhpMvna s name
ri Barashkov, and she’s a lady, so to speak, ot high positjon.
and even a princess in her own way, and she is connected wntU
a man called Totsky— Afanasj’ Ivano\ntch— vnth lum and no
one else, a man of propertv and great fortune, a member
companies and sodeties, and he's great friends with General
Epandiin on that account. ...”

"Ahal so that's it, is it?” Rogozhin was genumdy surpnsed
at last. "U^, hang it, he actually docs know!”

"He knows eveij’thingl Lebedyev knows everything! I
went about with young Alexandr Lihatchov for two months,
vour excellency, lind it was after his father's death too, and I
know my way about, so to say, so that he couldn't stir a step
without Lebedyev. Now he is in the debtors’ prison; but then
I every opportunity to know Armance and Coralie and
Princess Patsky and Nastasiw. Filippo%'na, and much else
besides.”

"Nastasj'aPilippoi'na? _\\Tiy, did Lihatchov . . .” Rogozhin
looked angrily at him. His lips positively twitched and turned
white.

"Not at all! Not at all! Not in the least!” the official
assured him with nen*ous baste. "Lihatchov couldn’t get at
her for any money 1 No, she is not an Armancc. She has
nobody but Totsky. And of an evening she sits in her own box
at the Grand or the French theatre. The officers may talk a lot
about her, but even thej’ can say nothing against her. 'That’s
the famous Nastasya FilipiwvDa,’ they say. and that’s all. But
nothing further, for there is nothing.”

Thats all true, Rogozhin confirmed, frowning gloomily.
"Zalyozhey said so at the time. I was running aarKs the
Nevsky, pnnee, m my father’s three-year-old coat and <=he came
out of a *op ^d pt into her carriage. I was all aflame in an
^tant. I met ^yozhev. He is quite another sort— got up
like a harr-dr^s assistant with an ejTglass in his while

T ^ tarred boots and are kept on

Lenteii ^oup. She s no match for you, my boy,’ he said’ ''^he

is a princess. Her name is Nastasya FilmnoTOa Baraev -Tnd
.he 13 Wng Toteky, Vo pt

^ s lust reached the proper time of life fiftv-five,

8

the baignoire. As for going to the ballet, if anyone at home
had tried that on, father would have settled it — ^he would have
killed one. But I did sUp in for an hour though and saw
Nastasya Filippovna again; I didn’t sleep all that night. Next
morning my late father gave me two five-per-cent bonds for
five thousand roubles each. *Go and sell them,’ he said, 'and
take seven thousand five hundred to Andreyev’s office, and pay
the account, and bring back what’s left of the ten thousand
straight to me; I shall \vait for you.’ I cashed the bonds, took
the money, but I didn’t go to Andreyev's. I went straight to
the English shop, and picked out a pair of ear-rings with a
diamond nearly as big as a nut in each of them. I gave the
whole ten thousand for it and left owing four himdred; I gave
them my name and they trusted me. I went with the ear-
rings to Zalyozhev; I told him, and said : 'Let us go to Nastasya
Filippovna’s, brother.’ We set off. I don’t know and can’t
remember what was under my feet, what was before me or
about me. We went straight into her drawing-room, she came
in to us herself, I didn’t tell at the time who I was, but
Zalyozhev said: ‘This is from Parfyon Rogozhin in memory
of his meeting you yesterday; graciously accept it.’ She opened
it, looked and smiled: ‘Thank your friend Mr. Rogozhin for
his kind attention.’ She bowed and went out. Well, why didn’t
I die on the spotl I went to her because I thought I shouldn’t
come back alive. And what mortified me most of all was that
that beast Zalyozhev took it all to himself. I, am short and
badly dressed, and I stood, without a word, staring at her
because I was ashamed, and he's in the height of fashion, curled
and pomaded, rosy and in a check tie — he was all bows and
graces, and I am siure she must have taken him for me 1 ‘Well,’
said I, as he went out, ‘don’t you dare dream now of anything,
do you understand?’ He laughed. ‘And how are you going to
account for the money to your father now? ' I felt like throwing
myself into the water, I must own, instead of going home, but I
thought: ‘What did anything matter after all? ’ and I went home
in desperation like a damned soul.”

‘‘Echl Ugh I” The petty official wriggled. Ho positively
shuddered. ‘‘And you know the deceased gentleman was ready
to do for a man for ten roubles, let alone ten thousand," he
added, nodding to the prince.

Myshkin scrutinised Rogozhin with interest; the latter seemed
paler than ever at that moment.

‘‘Ready to do for a man!” repeated Rogozhin. ‘‘What do

9

you know about it? He found it all out at once,” be went on,
addressing Myshkin, "and Zalyozhev went gossiping about it
to everybody. My father took me and locked me up upstairs
and was at me for a whole hour. ‘This is only a preface,' he
said, 'but I’ll come in to say good night to you ! ’ And what do
you think? The old man went to Nastasya Filipjxjvna’s, bowed
down to the ground before her, wept and besought her; she
brought out the box at last and flung it at him. ‘Here are your
ear-rings, you old greybeard,’ she said, ‘and they are ten times
more precious to me now since Parfyon faced such a storm to
get them for me. Greet Parfj'on Semyonovitch and thank him
for me,’ she said. And meanwhile I’d obtained tss’enty roubles
from Seryozha Protushin, and with my mother’s blessing set off
by train to Pskov, and I arrived in a fever. The old woman
began reading the Lives of the Saints over me, and I sat there
drunk. 1 sprat my last farthing in the taverns and lay sense-
less all night in the street, and by morning I was delirious, and
to make matters better the dogs gnawed me in the night. I had
a narrow squeak.”

\Vell, weU, now Nastasya Filippovna will sing another
tune,^ the omaal chuckled, rubbing his hands. "What are
ear-rmgs now, sirl Now we can make up for it with such ear-
nngs ...

‘But h you ay another word about Nastasya FiUppovna,
as there is a God abo%-e I’ll thrash you, though you used to go

hyXlS. sizing him violenUy

h»vepul y,,rs«,l„/™. .Twy.

he had come 5«iy “'i

They shouted aad ^evrt th* a“‘,o

off those gaiters of '^^’U take

I’U get yfu StS'dS?^ ^ ^^t-iate fur coat,

you like. I’ll fin ^istcoat, or what

Jsastas>a Filippovna l^ViU you corner^ ‘ ' ’

10

"Listen Prince Lvov Nikolaycvitch I ’* Lebedyev chmed m
sdcSrandim^rcivoly. -Dorft the chaace, eh, doa t

■” wSetfy^ll'm’ stood op, courteously held out his baud to

■'TS e?m^"™Sest o. P>— d ^u
much for Ukine: me. I may come to-day even, if I e -r'ljupj

As for money. I h^ave scarcely a at the ^ome

"There will be money, there wli be money by S

“"There wiU, there willl" the omeial assented, "by evenine,

’^?S.r™!“riSe,'’a;ryou very keen on dreml Let me

''"•T'n-nol''S'»r. . . . P»l>aP= rmen"

owing to my illness, I know notlni^ o ^ ,, -j.- lemilar

"Well, if that's how it is," cried Rogozhin, you are a regm

blessed innocent, and God official repeated.

"And the Lord God loves sudi as

"And you follow me,” said ^06°=^*^, 5,iwv^ad ended by
And they all got out of the carriage. L j^.,ooeared in the
gaining his point. The noisy ^foTad t^^ to-

direction of Voznesensky Prospect. T1 P , , . ^ijcd his ^vay

wards Liteyny. It ivas damp and ^>"y: to S and he

of passers-by-it appeared that he had two mUes to go. ana

decided to take a cab.

CHAPTER n

ENERAL EPANCHIN lived in a house ” Jxths

'Jffrom Liteyny. Besides this magmfice house in

of its rooms 4re let in flat^he had tr^.

Sadovy Street, which was also a large . estate close to

He o4ed also a considerable ^nd profitabk ^tete^

Petersburg, and a factory of some sort th shareholder in
days the general, as everyone and a considerable

government monopohes. Now he had snar

influence in the control of some well-established companies.
He had the reputation of being a very busy man of large fortune
and wide connexions. In certain positions he knew how to make
himself indispensable; for instance, in his own department of the
government. Yet it was known that Ivan Fyodorovitch Epan-
chin was a man of no education and the son of a simple soldier.
The latter fact, of course, could only be to bis credit; yet though
the general was an intelhgent man, he was not free from some
vety pardonable little weaknesses and disliked allusions to cer-
tain subjects. But he was unquestionably an intelligent and
rapable man. He made it a principle, for instance, not to put
huns^ forward, to efface hunself where necessary, and he was
valued by many people ju-st for his unpretentiousness, just
because he alwa^ knew his place. But if only those who said
of him could have known what was passing sometimes in
^ E°ul of Iv^ Fyodorovitch, who knew his place so well!
Though he really had practical knowledge and experience and

to to be

put the Ideas of others rather than the promptings of
Sd^ "disinterestedly devot^”

■Riiwian Th Spirit of the age — a warm-hearted

SSon^but amusing stories told about him in this

smriS^ “ever disconcerted by these

ceal tWs little, ^he SleSt ° to. con-

course, with people of co^n^qiJ^^ Bnt^’
before him, he had nlentv of t’ F \ everythmg

and everything waf borad ^ everything

years, too, the time. And in

fifty-ax, not more, and to kno^

manhood; the age at whirh rr v t ^ the very flower of
complexion, his sound thoupfi^i His good health, his

figu^, hisprrapld aS t^"th, hb sturdy, solid

good-humoured countenance in ™ morning and his

grace-s-’-^lcontriS to^f® ^t cards or at "his

future, and strewed his^celWr^!^'^‘^“!v“' present and in the
The general had

msestherc, indeed, StLre ^ not

Iracy s fondest hopes and plans ha?’?* tiis excel-

decply concentrated. And, after a^ ’I® earnestly and
. arter aU, what plans are gravCT and

12

more sacred than a father’s? What should a man cling to, if not
to his family?

The general’s family consisted of a wife and three grown-up
daughters. The generm had married many years before, when
only a lieutenant, a girl of almost liis own age, who was not
distinguished either by beaufy or education, and \vith whom
he had received only a dowry of fifty souls, wliich served, how-
ever, as a stepping-stone to his fortune in later da)^. But the
general never in after years complained of his early marriage,
he never regarded it as the error of his luckless youth, and he
so respected his wife, and at times so feared her, indeed, that
he positively loved her. His \vife was a Princess Jlyshkin, of an
ancient though by no means brilliant family, and she had a
great opinion of herself on account of her birth. An influential
person, one of those patrons whose patronage costs them
notliing, had consented to interest himself in the young prin-
cess's marriage. He had opened a way for the young officer
and had given him a helping hand along it, though indeed no
hand was needed, a glance was enough and would not have been
thrown away 1 With few exceptions the husband and %vife spent
thdr whole life in harmony together. At an early age Madame
Epanchin, as a princess by birth, the last of her family, possibly,
too, through her person^ qualities, had succeeded in finding
influential friends in the highest circles. In later years, through
her husband’s wealth and consequence in the service, she began
to feel almost at home in those exalted regions.

It was during these 3 'ears that the general's three daughters —
Alexandra, Adelaida and Aglaia — ^had grown up. They were
only Epanchins, it’s true, but of noble rank on their mother’s
side, with considerable dowries and a father who was expected
to rise to a very high position sooner or later, and what was
also an important matter, they were all three remarkably good-
looking, even the eldest, Alexandra, who was already turned
tw’enty-five. The second was twenty-three and the youngest,
Aglaia, was only just twenty. This youngest one was quite a
beauty and was beginning to attract much attention in society.
But &at was not everything; all three were distinguished by
education, cleverness and talent. Everyone knew that they were
remarkably fond of one another and always hung together.
People even talked of sacrifices made by the elder sisters for
„ the sake of the youngest, who was the idol of the house. They
were not fond of showing themselves off in sodety and were
modest to a fault. No one could reproach them with haughtiness

or conceit, yet they were known to be proud and to understand
their own value. The eldest was^a musician, the second painted
remarkably well, but this had not been generally known till
lately and had only come out accidentally. In a word, a great
deal was said in praise of them. But there were hostile critics.
People talked with horror of the number of books they had read.
They were in no huny to get married; they valued belonging to
a certain circle in society, yet not to excess. This was the more
remarkable as everyone knew the attitude, the character, the
aims and the desires of their father.

It was about eleven o’clock when Myshkin rang at the
general s flat, which was on the sixth floor, and was a modest one
considering his position. A hveried servant opened the door and
Myshkin had much ado to explain his appearance to the man
who, from ^e first, looked suspiciously at him and his bundle.
At last, on ms repeated and definite assertion that he really was
Pnnce Myshkin and that he absolutely must see the general on
urgent business, the wondering servant conducted him into a
little ante-room leading to the waiting-room that adjoined the
gei^ral s study, and handed him over to another servant, whose

luoming in the ante-room and to
servant, who wore

He was hk anxious countenance.

Sto the^udv attendant who ushered visitors

into the study and ro knew his own importance.

said^ sLS here,” he

diimitv and lookinir arm-chair with deliberation and

IfdS^ on i Sf Myshkin, who had

"If Wu°U aflow bundle in his hands.

with yo»; wta TO I ti iTi

You can’t stay in the antp-mnm ...

other words a guest Do vm ?’ ^ ^ ^ visitor, in

The servant obviously ^found^t general himself?”

1 ^ not going to arinou^you.” secretary’s leave

was to^unlikr&^e' oSS'mn marked: the prince

hour the general used cftim almost'^^*^°^ j 1'hough at a certain

«f <1.0 me, ™*d-*scrip6,r4aj“VSSS'

14

yet in spite o£ Uic latitude of his instnictions the attendant felt
great licsitation; the sccrctar>''s opinion was essential before he
showed him in,

"Are you really . . . from abroad?" he asked, almost m
spite of Himself, and v.-as confused.

He had been about perhaps to ask: "Are you rcalh' Prince
Mj-shkin?"

"Yes, I have onl}' just come from tlic station. I think you
^vcrc going to ask, ‘am I really Prince Myshkin?’ but you didn’t
ask from politeness.’’

"Hml’’ granted the astounded servant,

"I assure you tliat I haven’t told you a lie and you won’t get
into trouble on my account. And you need not be surprised at
my looking like this and h.aving a bundle; I am not in verj’
flourishing circumstances just now."

"H’ml I have no apprehension on that score, you know.
It’s my duty to announce you, and the secretary w-ill see you,
unless you . . . that’s just tire difficulty. . . . You arc not ask-
ing the general for assistance, if I may make bold to inquire? "

"Oh no, you can rest assured of that. My buancss is
different."

"You must excuse me, but I asked looking at you. Wait
for the secretary; his excellency is engaged mth the colonel at
present and Uicn the secretary . . . from the company , . . rs
coming,"

"Then, if I have to wait a long while, I should like to ask
you if there is anynvherc I could smoke? I’ve got a pii>c and
tobacco."

"Smoke?" repeated the attendant, glancing at liim with
scornful surprise as tliough he could scarcely believe his cars.
"Smoke? No, you can’t smoke here; you ought to be ashamed
to think of such a thing. Hc-he! It’s a queer business."

"Oh, I didn’t mean in this room; I know that, I would have
gone anywhere else you showed me, for I haven’t had a smoke
for three hours. I am used to it. But it’s as you please, tliere’s
a saying, you know, 'At Rome one must . . .' "

"Well, how am I going to announce a fellow like you?" the
attendant could not help muttering. "In the first place you have
no business to be here, you ought to be sitting m the waiting-
room, for you are a visitor, in other words a guest, and I shall
be blamed for it. . . . You arc not thinking of staying with the
lamily?” he added, glancing once more at the bundle which
evidently disturbed him.

15

"No, I don’t think so. Even if they invite me, I shan’t stay.
I’ve simply come to make their acquaintance, that’s all.’’

“What? to make their acquaintance?’’ the attendant re-
peated with amazement and redoubled suspiciousness. "Why,
you said at first you’d come on business?’’

"Oh, it’s hardly business. Though I have business, if you
Tike, but only to ask advice; I’ve come chiefly to introduce my-
self, because I am Prince Myshkin and Madame Epanchin is
a princess Myshkin, the last of them, and there are no Myshkins
left but she and I.”

Then you are a relation?’’ the startled lackey was positively
alarmed.

Har^y that either. Still, to stretch a point, I am a relation,
but so (fistant that it s not worth counting. I wrote to Madame
Epanchin from abroad, but she didn't answer me. Yet I thought
I must make her acquaintance on my return. I tell you all this
that you may have no doubt about me, for I see you are still
unea^. Mnounce Prince Myshkin, and the name itseK will be
a suffiaent re^n for ray visit. If I am received-well and
® perhaps just as weU. But I don’t think they
^ ref^ to see me. Madame Epanchin will surely want to see

Srityr I on good

• prince’s conversation seemed simple enoueh vet its very

intellieent than tVipir mnoi ‘ ^ce servants are far more
that there were two 4? ^ suppose, it struck the man

sort of impostor whoS “S'be^J^ftS®
simply a little bit soft and had Z ^ general or he was
with his wits about him and a srn^S v ^ P^nce

not sit in an ante-room nnH dignity would

So in either case he miphi imf about his affairs.

"Anyvvay.h would Wm.

room," he observed as imnrp«-^ waiting-

"But if I had possible,

you," said MyshkS explained it all to

would still have bera’aiS^f good-humouredly, "and you
Now, perhaps, youneedn’St foSf f
aimounce me to the general " ^ ™ secretary, but can go and

16

"I can’t announce a witor like you without the secretary:
besides, his excellency gave special orders just now that he was
not to be disturbed for anyone while he is with the colonel.
Gavril Ardalionovitch goes in without being announced."

"An official?"

"Gavril Ardalionovitch? No. He is in the service of the
company. You might put your bundle here."

"1 was meaning to, if I may. And I think I’ll take off my
cloak too."

"Of course, you couldn’t go in in your cloak.”

Myslikin stood up and hurriedly took off his cloak, remaining
in a fairly decent, well-cut, though worn, short jacket. A steel
chain was visible on his waistcoat, and on the cliain was a silver
Geneva watch.

Though the prince was a bit soft — the footman had made up
his mind that he ^vas so — ^yct he felt it unseemly to keep up a
conversation \vith a visitor. Moreover, he could not help feeling
a sort of liking for the prince, though from another point of
view he aroused in him a feeling of strong and coarse indigna-
tion.

•’And Madame Epanclun, when does she see visitors?” asked
Myshkin, sitting down again in the same place.

"That's not my business. She secs visitors at different times
according .to who they arc. The dressmaker is admitted at
eleven even, Gavril Ardalionovitch is admitted earlier than other
people, even to early lunch."

"Your rooms here are kept warmer than abroad," observed
Myslikin, "but it's warmer out of doors there than here. A
Russian who is not used to it can hardly live in their houses in
the winter."

"Don’t they heat them?"

"No, and die houses are differently built, that is to say the
stoves and windows are different."

"Hm I Have you been away long?”

"Four years. But I was almost all the time at the same place
in the country."

"You’ve grown strange to our yfays?”

"Yes, that's true. Would you believe it, I am surprised to
find I haven’t forgotten how to speak Russian. As I talk to you,

I keep thinking : ‘Why, I am speaking Russian nicely.’ Perhaps
that's why I talk so much. Ever since yesterday I keep longing
to talk Russian."

"Hm! Ha! Used you to live in Petersburg?" In spite

17

of his efforts the lackey could not resist being drawn into such

a polite and afiable conversation.

••In Petersburg? I’ve scarcely been there at aU, only on my
way to other places. I knew nothing of the town betore
now I hear there’s so much new in it that anyone who
would have to get to know it afresh. People talk a grear
about the new Courts of Justice now.”

“Hml . . . Courts of Justice. . . . It’s tree there are
Courts of Justice. And how is it abroad, are their courts oe
than ours?” , .

"I don’t know. I’ve heard a great deal that s good aoo
ours. We’ve no capital punishment, you know.”

"Why, do they execute people there then?” _ '

"Yes. I saw it in France, at Lyons. Dr. Schneider took
with him.”

“Do they hang them?”

"No, in France they always cut o5 their heads.”

”Do they scream?” .

"How could they? It’s done in an instant. They make tn
man lie down and then a great knife is brought down by a heavy
powerful machine, called the guillotine. . . . The head laus
o2 before one has time to wink. The preparations urc
horrible. When they read the sentence, get the man

bmd him, lead him to the scafiold that’s what’s awful I

Crowds assemble, even women, though they don’t like women
to look on. ...”

"It’s not a thing for them!”

“Of course not, of course not I Such a horrible thing 1 • ■ •
The criminal was an intelligent, middle-aged man, strong uud
courageous, called Legros. But I assure you, though you inay
not believe me, when he mounted the scaffold he was weeping
and was as white as paper. Isn’t it incredible? Isn’t it a^vfulf
Who cries for fear? I’d no idea that a grown man, not a child>
a man who never cried, a man of forty-five, could cry for fear!
What must be passing in the soul at such a moment; to what
aii^sh it must be brought! It’s an outrage on the soul, that s
what IS It! It is written, ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ so because he

, , . , . ^ a dozen times.'

Myshkm WM quite moved as he spoke, a faint colour came
mir, r his voice was still gentle. The foot-

man followed him with sympathetic interest, re that he seemed

i8

sorry for Wm .o slop. Ho loo. ^as portops a maa of imagina-

Observed, ' ^vhen the head glk off

“Do you know, Myshkin same, and the

made that observation W the idea

guillotine was invented it worse. That wll seem

to me at the Sea ^ut if one has some

to you an absurd and xhinkl if tlierc were torturc,

tiom-one may suppose even and wounds, bod dy

for instance, fh^rc would ^ ^ g

agony, and so all that 'vo^^^e birtured by.woun^,^/l

suffenng, so Uiat may not be in the boddv

one died. But the cluef P ertain that in an hour, and

sufferinc but in one's knowing f rninute and then now, at
tSen?; Wnutes, and ^^^n in hMf that one wiU

Se very moment, the '^^SJund Jhappen) the worst
cease to be a man, and When you lay your W

part of it is that h's ccrlm . ^Jen J over your head, that
under tlie knife and hear the kn^^ You know tins

quarter of a second is the most temo the same. 1

is not only my tell you what I thin •

believe that so thoroughly that 1 1 worse than tne

Si for murder is a P«"‘fSleS nTe^i^^^^^^

crime itself. Murder by Anyone mnrdered by

terrible than murder by St in a wood, or someton^^

brigands, whose throat is cut at nig t ^ last minute.

of Ltsirt, must surely hope to escape^h^ ],opc& for

There have been if ^^'l‘'^%^mercy after his throat w^ cuh

escape, running or begging hope, which makes

But in the other case aU tha nst ho^;. There is the pntence,
times as easy, is taken away / is certmn V

' and the whole torture lies m the ^ terrible. Y

escape, and there is no torture m the 'voj ,,onon m battie
may lead a soldier out and^^t him a ^5^^ ^ sentence of cer
and fire at him and he’ll shh hop^^J go out of h^s rnin

tain death over that same so • . ^^er human nature

or burst into tears, ^^o can teh whetno useless, unnec«-

to bear this madm^? ^^y this_^tmi^

sary outrage? Perte^ exposed to this torture and h ^ 1 ^

too. No, you can’t treat a man like that!"

Though the footman would not have been able to express him-
self like Myshkin, he understood most, if not all, of the speech;
that was evident from the softened expression of his face.

“If you are so desirous of smoking," he obser\'ed, "you might
be able to, perhaps, only you would have to make haste about
it. For his excellency might ask for you all of a sudden and you
wouldn’t here. You see tlie door under the stairs, go in there
and there s a little room on the right; you can smoke there,
onty you must open the window, for it’s against the rules. ...”

But Myshlun had not time to go and smoke. A young man
wth papers in his hands suddenly appeared in the ante-room.
Ihe footaan began helpmg him ofi with his coat. The young
mM looked askance at Itljshkin.

This gentleman, Gavril Ardalionovitch," the footman began,
confidentially and almost familiarly, “announces himself as
I'rmce Myshkm and a relation of the mistress; he has just

“ his hand, only. . . .”
P^ch the rest. As the footman began to
i^dahonovitch listened attentively and looked

approached Sm tapa^en^^^^^^

ness^^dSSj! he asked with extreme poUte-

ei^t^ ’‘^®h-built young man, also about

height, with ftir hair, a small
his^smile with handsome face. Only

played tith too tv. f.h^hihty, was a trifle too subtle; it dis-
Sent pearl-hke and even; in spite of his gaiety and

sidling ^ something too iftent and

sa?e a^Te'lad toWolS

Meanwhile Gavril Arrl^v ^d before that to Rogozhin.

Prokofyevna a yew a^o oV ^ ^ ^®her to Lizaveta

think?” ® ®ven less, from Switzerland, I

“Yes."

m. YoJ'S to Se° lds^°eLdlLcW

...... H,..11,beatUb«ySy. MyTorShr

20

you,

once.

you had

gentleman here? T.- Jl nU

"I tell you, he wouldn t l^seu . • • thrown open

At that moment in Ws l^and bowed himself

and a miUtary man with a portfolio in ms

Sfcanya.” cried a voice from the study, "come

Ardalionovitch nodded to Myshkin and «t hashly
into the study. ooened again and the musical

. a„«Se“ KSKoh Ss ha.d:

"Prince, please come m.

CHAPTER HI

pENERAL IVAN curiosity

Vjrthe middle of the room two steps towards

at the young man as he introduced himself. ^ ,

him \upnf iir> to turn aiiu ^ ^rmi?

make your

"^ha;e7ou^ent'^business,myo^^^^^^^

acquaintance. 1 should 1» visitors. . • •

your arrangements, or when y „ come from Sivitze -

only just come from the station. . • •

^""ihe general was on agU'^sSewed

thought! he checked himseU. ^inhom^head to foot, then

up his eyes, scrutinised his vis himself a Uttle on o

rapidly motioned him to a ^ai , . expectation. Gany

side of him, and mmed to him sorting papers. „

was standing in Ae corner at acquaintances as

"I have We time have no doubt some

observed the general, but y ..ur,-*

object. ...*’■ , Mvshkin interrupted, tnai

that’s just what I visit. Butla^ure

you would look for some special 1 pleasure of making

you I have no personal objec P . . ,. u

your acquaintance." . ^oo, but life is not

-It is’ol COU.SO a g«»t wtU. . . • M««-

play, you know, one has workjomenm

over, so far, I haven’t been able to discover anything in common
between us . . . any reason, so to speak. ...”

"There certainly is no reason, and very little in common, of
course. For my being Prince Myshkin and Madame Epanchin’s
being of the same family is no reason, to be sure. I quite under-
stand that. And yet it's only that that has brought me. It’s
more than four years since I was in Russia, and I left in such a
state — almost out of my mind. I knew nothing then and less
than ever now. I need to know good people; there is also
a matter of business I must attend to, and 1 don’t know to whom
to apply. The thought struck me at Berlin that you were
almost rdations, and so I would begin with you; we might
perhaps be of use to one another — ^you to me and I to you —
^ople people, and I had heard that you were good

'< A ^ much obliged to you,” said the general, surprised.
iUlow me to mqmre where you are staying? ’ ’

I am not staying anywhere as yet "

witiflugga^I^““® And . . .

notWnfr^pfso^-*^^^®^ ^ ^ ^ bundle of my linen, I’ve

n^hmg else, 1 generally cany it in my hand. I shall have
time to take a room this evening.” ^

So you stih intend to take a room at a hotel?”

,,'-'*1 y®s, of course.

stay^here I was led to suppose that you had come to

thou^^\“!von1c1^^t’ invitation. I confess.

not going to^imrite vou'^itll^*^ ^ haven’t invited you, and am
clear once for all • P^nce, so as to make things

be no talk of relationsliln'^i^'^^ agreed ^eady that there can

'"•SI’"?"® *" ■”'•

vdth positive mirth^b^ b^pite of "P'
of his position. "And woum ^Pparent di£&culty

I know nothing of practical life°nnr^^nK Saneral, although
felt sure that ftis was how u customs here, yet I

better so. And you ^ctaTalw^ Perhaps it is

goodie.

Myshta , bee ™ so oostiiel „ tiSSbeot, epti hb smtie

22

so free from the slightest ^seemed siid-

Sy to ‘tok Shft^tor irom a divert point of vie»i the

"I don’t know you, after al , . name. . • •

perhaps Uke to have ^ at one who beam^^^_

Stay a little, if you vnll, and y ^j^tirely mv own.” And
'•Oh, I’ve plenty of tome, my time h
Myshkin at once laid his soft ^ r might remember

fess 1 was expecting that L’^ayeta ^ f ^as waitmg

that I had written to her. assistance. I noticed

just now, suspected I d come to be^ subject,

tliat, and no doubt you ve giv to get

But I’ve really not come for that, 1 'c y y
to know people. But I am only afraid 1 am m y

that worries me.” , -ju a cood-humoured

"Well, prince,” «^\*^-SSirson you seem to be, it will

smile, "if you really are the sort of perso ^ ^ ^

Vu> niMcnnf tn make vour acQuam > thmuch and

you see, anu a h ax- vx'.'”*- -o — , s • grace’s, anu uxv*. —

sign some things, and tlien I m go g jg _ _ . nice ones,

the office, so though I am glad o , P that you are a
that is, but ... 1 am, so sure, howewj^t^^ ^y
man of very good breeding, tnar .
prince?”

“Twenty-six.” , „„,,rvgpr ”

"Oh, I supposed you were much young ^ ^ shall, soon

"Yes, I am told I look ^ muclf dislike being in the

Icam not to be in your way, for I v ry different people

way. And I fancy, besides, that we cannot

. . . through various circumstances, believe m

have many points in common. Bu y there are no pomts
last idea mj'self, for it often only seeni ^ ^^^t laziness

in common, when there really are to appearances,

that makes people classify themselves perhaps I am

and fail to find anything in common. . • • . j

boring you? ■ You seem . . •' ot nlP Or do you intena

"Two words; have you any nmans .^'j^sidng.”
to take up some kind of work? Exc ,g^tand yo'^'^
"Certainly, 1 quite appreciate and occupation eithen b
1 have for the moment no means an it n

1 must have. The money I have had was not y

given me for the journey by Schneider, the professor who has
been treating me and teaching me in Switzerland. He gave
me j^t enough for the journey, so that now I have only a few
f^hmgs left. There is one thing, though, and I need advice
about It, but ...”

Tell me, how do you intend to live meanwhile, and what are
yoim plans? interrupted the general.

"I '^ted to get work of some sort.”

tiionfc’ T ^ philosopher; but are you aware of any

abihty whatever in yourself, of any sort by which
\ou^ earn your hvmg? Excuse me again.”

or apologise. No. 1 fancy Tve no talents

inv Jd airi contrary, in fact, for I am an

livingf I fancy ^ systematic education. As to my

m began questioning him

feSearJ told already. It

PavHshtchev an/^a?^ h^rd of his deceased benefactor,
Pavlishtchev’hari known him personally. Why

could not exDlain-^n^hi'^ Itself in his education the prince
long standing Sih S fSr a friendsBp of

M'as a small fhild Ha ^J^tikin lost his parents when he

au his life in the

had St ^^Se of Pavlishtchev

had engaged for him fimt- ladies, relations of his, and

said that, although he ^ tutor, llyshkin

in his past life he could everything, there was much

understood it. Frequent atteSf^f ^
almost an idiot fH^hWn ^ illness had made him

that PavliSev "^'^^ot”). He said

Swiss, who was a snecialkt in*°i Professor Schneider, a

tion in Switzerland m th^L^on “ institu-

sugering even from idinrv nn,i ° V^is, where he had patients
own method with cold ^ter'a^d^^’ ^ted them on his
^so, and superintending their mpnK°?^V'^’ them

Pavlishtchev had sent hun / development generally,

five years ago. and had died doctor nearly

no ^vision for him. Sdlndde^ hld^St’ T'
his treatment for those twn "f P^, continued

completely cured him he ha although he had not

Finally, at his owS* ““Proved his condition,

had happened, he had s^t him no “to Ea°^ something that

24

The general was very much surprised. "And you have no
one in Russia, absolutely no one?" he asked.

"At the moment no one, but I hope ... I have received a
letter ..."

, "Have you, anyway,” the general broke in, not hearing die
last phrase, "have you at least been trained for something,
and would your affliction not prevent your taking, for instance,
some easy post?”

"Oh, it would certainly not prevent me. And I should be
very glad of a post, for I want to see what I am fit for. I have
been studying for the last four years without a break, though on
his special system, not quite on the regular plan. And I managed
to read a great deal of Russian, too."

"Russian? Then you know the Russian grammar and can
write without mistakes?”

"Oh, yes, perfectly.”

"That’s good; and your handwriting?”

"My writing is excellent. Perhaps I may call tliat a talent,

I am quite a calligraphist. Let me write you something as a
specimen,” said Myshkin warmly.

"By all means. It’s quite essential, in fact, . . . And I like .
your readiness, prince; you are verj' nice, I must say."

"You’ve got such splendid writing materials, and what
numbers of pens and pencils, and what splendid thick paper.

. . . And what a jolly study! I. know that landscape, it’s a
view in Switzerland. I am sure the artist painted it from
nature, and I am certain I’ve seen the place — ^it’s in the canton
ofUri , , .”

"Very probably, though it was bought here. Ganya, give the
prince some paper; there are pens and paper, write at that
little table. What’s that?” asked the general, turning to Ganya,
who had meanwhile taken from his portfolio and handed him
a large photograph. "Ah, Nastasya Filippovna 1 Did she send
it you, she, she herself?” he asked Ganya eagerly and with
great curiosity.

"She gave it me just now, when I went with my congratula-
tions. I’ve been begging her for it a long time. I don't know
whether it wasn’t a hint on her part at my coming empty-
handed on such a day,” added Ganya, with an unpleasant
smile.

"Oh no,” said the general with conviction. "What a way of
looking at things you have I She'd not be likely to hint . . ,
and she is not mercenary either. Besides, w’

25

could you make her, that’s a matter of thousands ! You might
give her your portrait, perhaps? And, by the way, hasn't she
asked for your portrait yet?"

"No, she hasn’t; and perhaps she never will. You remember
the party this evening, Ivan Fyodorovitch, of course? You are
one of those particularly invited.”

"Oh, 1 remember, to be sure I remember, and I am coming.
I should think so, it’s her twenty-fifth birthday. Hm 1 Do you
know, Ganya, I don’t mind tellmg you a secret. Prepare your-
seH. She promised Afanasy Ivanovitch and me that at the party
this evening she would say the final word : to be or not to be.
So mind you are prepared.”

Ganya was suddenly so taken aback that he turned a little
pale.

Did she say that positively?” he asked, and there was a
quaver in his voice.

She gave us her promise the day before yesterday. We both
prised her till she gave way. But she asked me not to tell you
beforehand.”

The general looked steadily at Ganya; he was evidently not
pleased at his discomfiture.

Remember, Ivan Fyodorovitch,” Ganya said, hesitating
and uneasy, that she has left me quite at liberty till she

ma "te up her mmd, and that even then the decision rests with
me.

'“ean to say . . .” the

suddenly alarmed,
mean nothing."

’’Good heavens, what sort of position will you put us in?”

myilf rdly. ^ ^ ^

refusing!” said the general with vexation,
wmch he did not even care to conceal. "It’s not a nnp<;tinn of

anKeSne”f’w“fh''°h-’ T?ur readiness, of the pleasure
. 6 adness with which you will receive her promise
How are things going at home?” c uer promise. . .

fathrifo?a°^nShJ”ffr- ^ '^^orything at home. Only

sScr is anm^ b^t I tSd but cry, of course; my

26

house. I put it all very dearly to my sister, while my mother
rvas there.”

“I still fail to understand it, my boy,” observed the general
meditatively, with a slight motion of his hands and shrug of his
shoulders. “Nina Alexandrovna kept siglung and moaning
when she came tlie otlier day, you remember. What’s the
matter? I asked. It appeared that it would mean dishonour
to tliem. Where does the dishonour come in, allow me to ask?
Wliat can anj'one reproach Nastasya Filippovna with? t^Tiat
can anyone bring up against her? Not that she has been livdng
with Totsky, surely? That’s such nonsense, under the dreum-
stances, especially. ’You wouldn’t let her be introduced to your
daughters,' she says. Well, what next! She is a person! How
can she fail to sec, how can dre fail to understand. ...”

"Her own position?” Ganya prompted the embarrassed
general. “She docs understand it; don't be angry with her.
But I did give her a good lesson not to meddle in other people’s
affairs. Yet the only tiling that keeps them quiet at home is that
the final word has not yet been said, but there’s a storm brew-
ing. If it’s finally settled to-day, it \vill be sure to break out.”

Myshkin heard all this conversation sitting in the comer
writing his specimen copy. He finished, went to the table and
presented his page.

"So tliat’s Nastasya Filippovna!” he observed, looking
attentively and curiously at the photograph. "Wonderfully
beautiful,” he added warmly at once.

The portrait was indeed that of a wonderfully beautiful
woman. She had been photographed in a black silk dress of
an extremely simple and elegant cut; her hair, which looked as
though it were dark brown, was arranged in a simple homely
style; her eyes were dark and deep, her brow was pensive; her
expression was passionate, and, as it were, disdainful. She was
rather thin in the face and perhaps pale.

Ganya and the general stared at Myshldn in surprise.

"Nastasya Filippovna? Surely you don’t know Nastasya
Filippovna already?” queried the general.

"Yes, I’ve only been twenty-four hours in Russia, and
already I know a beauty like that,” answered Myshkin,

And then he described his meeting with Rogozhin, and re-
peated the story he had told him.

"Here’s something new 1 ” said the general, uneasy again. He
had listened to the story with the greatest attention and looked
searchingly at Ganya.

27

"Most likely nothing but vulgar fooling, ' muttered Ganj^,
who was also somewhat disconcerted. "A young merchant
spree. I’ve heard something about him before. ^

"And so have I, ray boy,” put in the general, ^astesya
Filippovna told the whole story of the ear-rings at the ume.
But now it’s a different matter. It may really meaii in^ons
and ... a passion. A low passion, perhaps, but still there s
the note of passion about it, and we know what these pntle-
men are capable of when they are infatuated. . . . Hm > • • •

I only hope nothing sensational will come of it,” the general
concluded thoughtfully.

“You are afraid of his millions?” asked Ganya with a smirK.
"And you are not, of course?” _

"How did he strike you, prince,” asked Ganya, turning sud-
denly to him. "Is he a serious person or simply a silly fool.
What is your opinion? ”

There was something peculiar taking place in Ganya as he
^vas asking his question. It was as though a new and peculiar
idea v'as kindled in his brain, and flashed impatiently in his
eyes. The general, who was simply and genuinely uneasy, also
looked askance at the prince, but did not seem to expect much
from his answers.

"I don’t know what to tell you,” answered Myshkin, "only
I landed that there was a great deal of passion in him, and
even a sort of morbid passion. And he seems still quite ill, too.
It’s quite possible that he’ll be laid up in a day or two again,
especially if he begins carousing.”

"What? You landed that?” the general caught at this idea.
"Yes.”

"Yet sometiung sensational may well happen, not in a day
or two, but before to-night, something may turn up perhaps
to-day,” said Ganya to the general, with a grin.

"Hml ... Of course. . . . Very likely, and then it will nil
depend on how it strikes her,” said the general.

‘‘And you know what she is like sometimes?”

Like what, do you mean?” the general pounced at him,
roused to extreme perturbation. "Listen, Ganya, please don’t
contradict her much to-day ... and try to be, you know . • •
her ... Hml ... Why are you grinning
like that. Listen, Gavnl Ardalionovitch, it won’t be out of
place, p°t nt all so, to ask now what are we working for? You
TOtkrstand that as regards any personal advantage to me in the
matter, 1 am quite at rest; m one tvay or another I shall settle

28

. j .ofrvrall SO I am perfectly

it. Totsky has made up Ws mm on^ ^ bSS

secure, and therefore all 1 clcsire i bcsiO^.

You can see tiiat for yourself. Um y^ ^ of sense,

you are a man • • * ^ ‘ ‘cince in the present case . • •

and I ^vas relying upon j • „ to the ■

looked Jwm to read in his eyes all that \

sRl‘. t™ piS

indirf, now" (the S™'"?',”* booK Wt. D» %

"allhough there «e only a tew M yon? K y™

Do you understand? ,7 Nobody is coerang y > . j£

Ardalionovitch, ,. ■ £ i , He dropped

you look on it as a voice, but firmly.

urcyt"ind1nnS.el°7>'^rhS been carried a^y g
tS general w;^ aabsfed, ^ 8^10 b^Sy an

uneasy consciousness th P ^ instantly

, least heard what was said. ^ reassure anyone-

medieval Russian clia thereto.” ,. Tiipn<;iire and

eagerness, that s

copied from a fourteenth-centurj? manuscript. Our old abbots
and bishops used to sign their names beautifully, and sometimes
wnth what taste, with what exactitude ! Haven't you Pogodin's
collection, general? And here I’ve written in another style; this
is tlie large round French writing of last century, some letters
were quite diSerent. It was the writing of the market-place,
the writing of professional scribes imitated from their samples.

I had one. You'll admit that it has points. Look at those
round o's and a's. I have adapted the French writing to the
Russian alphabet, which was very difficult, but the result is
successful. There’s another splendid and original writing — see the

phrase ‘Perseverance overcomes all obstacles’ ^that’s Russian

handuTiting, a professional or perhaps mUilary scribe’s; that’s
how government instructions to an important person are written.
That s a round handwriting, too, a splendid black writing,
vnti.en thick but \vith remarkable taste. A specialist in pen-
manship would disapprove of those flourishes, or rather those

attempts at flourishes, those unfinished tails you see them —

but yet you know ^ey give it a character, and you really see the
^ ^ military scribe peeping out in them, the longing

some way and to find expression for his talent,
1C in round his neck, and discipline, too,

lovelyl I was so struck \vith a
m 1 ^ chance, and fancy where—

writinn- ^ Simple, Ordinary, English hand-

further, it’s all exquisite, tiny beads,
F’-pnt'Vi nno T ^ht here is a variation, and again a

the samp sH 1 French commercial traveller. It’s

blacker an tbe English, but the black strokes are a trifle
tion is SDoilpft English, and you see the propor-

flourish IS js a trifle rounder, and the

A flourish rnn, ^ flourish is a most perilous thing !

ful if svmm 3 extraordinarjf taste, but if only it’s success-

one may simpg^ falfffi £ with ^comparable tliat

"You arpmu cfr!! niceties 1 ’’ laughed the general,

an artist! Eh, pcnman, my dear fellow, you are

recognises his vocation

"Do yo^knmv Acre’s a career in it,” said the general.

vvvrite now? Why ^vou Mn° pereonage we’ll get you to
y> y can count on thirty-five roubles a month

30

from the start. But it's half-past twelve," he added, glancing
at the clock. "To business, prince, for I must make haste
and perhaps I ma\* not see you again to-day. Sit down for a
minute. 1 have e.vplaincd already that I cannot see you very
often, but 1 am sincerely anxious to lielp you a little, a little
of course, that is. in what’s csscnti.al, and then for the rest you
must do as you please. I’ll find you a job in the ofTicc, not a
dinkult one, but needing acairacy. Now for the ne.xt thing. In
the home, that is, the family of Gavril Ardalionovitch Ivolgin,
this young friend of mine with whom I beg you to become
acquainted — his mother and sister have set apart two or three
funiished rooms, and let them with board and attendance to
specially recommended lodgers. I am sure Nina Alexandrovna
will accept mj’ recommendation. For you it will bo a godsend,
prince, for you will not be alone, but, so to speak, in the bosom
of a family, and to m_v thinking you ought not to be alone .at
first in such a town as Petersburg. Nina Alexandrovna and
Varvara Ardalionovna, her daughter, .are ladies for whom I
have tlic greatest respect. Nina Ale-vandrovna is the wife of a
retired general who was a comrade of mine when I was first
in the scn’icc, tliough owing to circumstances I've broken off all
relations wlh him. That doesn’t prevent me, however, from
respecting him in a certain sense. I tell you all this, prince,
that you ma}' understand that I recommend you personally, and
so I make myself in a sense responsible for you. The terms are
extremely moderate, and I hope that your salary will soon be
quite suiiicicnt to meet them. Of couisc a man wants pocket-
money, too, if only a little, but you won’t be angry with me,
prince, if I tell you lliat you’d be better off without pocket-
money, and, indeed, witliout any money in your pocket. I
speak from the impression I have of 3 'ou. But as your purse
is quite empty now, allow me to lend you twenty-five roubles
for your imniediate c.xpcnscs. You can repay me aftcrward.s,
of course, and if you are as sincere and genuine a person as you
appear to be, no misunderstandings can arise between us. I
have a motir’e for interesting myself in j’our welfare; you will
know of it later. You see I am perfect!}' Straightforward with
you. I hope, Ganya, you’ve nothing against the prince’s being
installed in your house?”

"Oh, quite the contraiy'. And my mother will be delighted,"
Ganya assented politely and obligingly.

"You’ve only one room let, I thmk. That, what’s his name
. . . Ferd ... ter . ,

31

"Ferdyslitchcnko.”

“Oil yes. 1 don't like your Fcrdyshtchcnko, he i? a dirty
clown. And I can't understand why Nastasya Filippovna
encourages him so. Is he really a relation ot herir"

“Oh no, that's only a joke! There's not a trace of relation-
ship.”

“Well, hang hiiul Well, prince, arc you satisfied?”

“Thank you, general, you have been very kitid to me,
especially as 1 haven’t even asked for help; I don’t say lliat
from pride; I really didn’t know wlicre to lay my head. It's
true Rogozhin invited me just now.”

“Rogozhin? Oh, no, I would advise vou as a father, or, if
you prefer, as a friend, to forget Mr. Rogozhin. And altogether
I would advise you to stick to the family which vou are
entering.”

“Since you arc so kind," began the prince, "I have one piece
of business. I have received the news ...”

“Excuse me,” broke in tlie general, “I haven’t a minute
more now. I’ll go and tell Lizaveta Prokofyevna .about you;
if she wishes to see you at once (1 will try to {^vc her a good
impression of you) I advise you to make use of the opportunity
and gain her good graces, for Lizaveta Prokofvcvna can be of
^cat use to you; you bear her name. If she "doesn’t wish to,
mere s nothing for it, some other time perhaps. And you,
Ganyu, look through three accounts meantime, Fcdoscycv and
1 nave been struggling with them. You mustn’t forget to include

general went out,^ and so Myslikin did not succeed in
telhng him about the business which be had four times es'^aved
to ^Shted a cigarette and offered one

tinn tor f ’ accepted it, but refrained from conversa-

IfnHv intemipUng him. He began looking about tlie

scarcely glanced at the sheet covered with
oS;d hfh a ndicated to him. He was pre-

brforc ,h. porMt

32

p.'^ed through terrible suffering, hasn't she? Her 03^05 tell one
tliat, the cheek-bones, these points under her eyes. It’s a proud
face, awfully proud, but I don't know whether she is kind-
hearted. Ah, if she were! That would redeem it all!"

"And would you marry such a woman?" Gan3'a went on,
his feverish C3'cs fixed upon him.

"I can't many' arn'one, I am an invalid," said Myshkin.

"And would Kogo'zhin marry her? What do you think?”

"Marry her! he might to-morrow, I dare say he’d marry her
and in a week perhaps murder her.”

He had no sooner uttered this than Ganya shuddered so
violcnlU' that Myshkin almost cried out.

"What’s the matter?” he asked, seizing his hand.

"Your excellency! His excellency begs you to come to her
excellcnc}', " the footman announced, appearing at the door.

Myshkin followed the footman.

CH/VPTER IV

T he three daughters of General Epandiin were bloom-
ing, healthy, well-gro\vn young women, witli magnificent
shoulders, well-developed clicsts and strong, almost masculine,
arms; and naturally witli their health and strength they were
fond of a good dinner and had no desire to conceal the fact.
Their mamma sometimes looked askance at the frankness of
their appetite, but though her views were always received witli a
sliow of respect by her daughters, some of her opinions had long
ceased to carry the unquestioned authority of early 3'cars; so
much so that the tliree girls, alw.ays acting in concert, w'ere
continually too strong for their mother, and for the sake of her
own dignity she found it more expedient to yield wthout
opposition. Her temperament, it is true, often prevented her
from following the dictates of good sense; Lizaveta Prokofyevna
was becoming more capricious and impatient every year. She
was even becoming rather eccentric, but as her well-trained and
submissive husband was always at hand, her pent-up moods
were usually vented upon him, and then domestic harmony was
restored and all went well again.

Madame Epanchin herself had not lost her appetite, however,
and as a rule she joined her daughters at half-past twelve at a
substantial lunch almost equivalent to a dinner. The young
ladies drank a cup of coffee earlier, in their beds as soon as they

33

waked, at ten o’clock precisely. They liked tins custom and
had adopted it once for all. At half-past twelve the table was
laid in tire little dining-room next to their mamma's apartments,
and occasionally when the general had time, he joined this
family party at lunch. Besides tea, coffee, cheese, honey,
butter, a special sort of fritters beloved by the lady of the
house, cutlets, and so on, strong hot soup was also served.

On the morning when our story begins, tlie whole family was
gathered together in tlie dining-room waiting for the general,
''who had promised to appear at lialf-past twelve. If he had
been even a moment late, he would have been sent for, but he
made liis appearance punctually. Going up to his wife to wish
her good-morning and kiss her hand, he noticed something
special in her face. And although he had had a presentiment
the night before that it would be so, owing to an “incident”
(his favourite e.xpression), and had been uneasy on this score
ds he fell asleep, yet now he was alarmed again. His daughters
went up to kiss liim; though they were not angry with him,
there was something special about them too. The general had,
it is true, become excessively suspicious of late. But as he was
a husband and father of experience and dexterity, he promptly
took his measures.

It will perhaps help to make our stor^’ clearer if we break off
here and introduce some direct explanations of the circumstances
and relations in which we find General Epanchin's family at the
beginning of our tale. We have just said that the general,
though not a man of much education, but, as he expressed it, a
self-taught man, was an experienced husband and a dexterous
fatlier; he had, for instance, made it a principle not to hurry
his daughters into marriage — that is, not to pester and worry
them by over-anxiety for their happiness, as so many parents
unconsciously and naturally do, even in the most sensible
families in which grown-up daughters are accumulating. He
even succeeded in bringing over Lizaveta Prokofyevna to his
principle, though it was difficult to canj' out — difficult because
it ^yas unnatural. But the general’s argxunents were exceedingly
weighty and founded on palpable facts. Jloreover, left to their
own will and decision, the girls would inevitabty be bound to
realise the position themselves, and then things would go
smoothly, for they would set to work willingly, give up being
capricious and excessively fastidious. All that would be left
tor tlie parents to do would be to keep an unflagging and, as far
as possible, unnoticeable watch over them, that they might make

34

no strange choice and show no unnatural inclination: and then
to seize a fitting moment to come to their assistance with all
their strength and influence to bring tilings to a finish. The
mere fact, too, that tlieir fortune and social consequence were
growing every year in geometrical progression made tlie girls
gain in the marriage market as time went on.

But all tliese incontestable facts were confronted by another
fact. The eldest daughter, Alexandra, suddenly and quite
unexpectedly indeed (as always happens) reached the age of
twenty-five. Almost at the same moment .‘\fanasy Ivanovitch
Totskj', a man in the best society, of Uic highest connections, and
extraordinaiy wealth, again c.xprcsscd his long-cherished desire
to marr\'. He was a man of fivc-and-fifty, of artistic tempera-
ment and c.\traordinar3' refinement. He wanted to make a good
marriage; he was a great admirer of feminine beauty. As he
had been for some time on terms of tbe closest friendship with
General Epanchin, especially since they had both taken part in
the same financial enterprise, he bad broached tlie subject, so
to speak, by asking his friendly advice and guidance. VV^ould
a proposal of marriage to one of his daughters be considered?
A break in the quiet and happy course of the general’s family
life TOS evidently at hand.

The beauty of tlie family was, as wc have said already, un-
questionably the youngest, Aglaia. But even Totsky, a man
of extraordinary egoism, realised that it was useless for him to
look in that direction and tliat Aglaia was not for him. Perhaps
tlie somewhat blind love and the over-ardent affecUon of the
sisters exaggerated the position, but tlicy had settled among
lliemselves in a most simple-hearted fashion that Aglaia’s fate
was not to be an ordinary fate, but the highest possible ideal of
earthly bliss. Aglaia’s future husband was to be a paragon of
all perfections and achievements, as well as the possessor of vast
wealth. The sisters had even agreed between tliemselvcs, with-
out sajnng much about it, that if necessary they would sacrifice
their interests for the sake of Aglaia. Her dowry was to bo
colossal, unheard-of. The parents knew of this compact on the
part of the two elder sisters, and so when Totsky asked advice,
they scarcely doubted tliat one of the elder sisters would consent
to crown their hopes, especially as Afanasy Ivanovitch would
not be e.xacting on the score of dowry. The general witli lus.
knowledge of life attached the greatest value to Totsky's pro-
posal from the first. As owing to certain special circumstances,
Totsky was obliged to be extremely circumspect in Iris behaviour,

35

and was merely feeling his way, the parents only presented the
question to their daughters as a remote proposition. They re-
ceived in response a satisfactory, though not absolutely definite,
assurance that tire eldest, Alexandra, might perhaps not refuse
him. She was a good-natured and sensible girl, very easy to
get on with, though she had a will of her o^vn. It was conceiv-
able that she was perfectly ready to marry Totsky; and if she
gave her word, she would keep to it honourably. She was not
fond of show, with her there would be no risk of violent change
and disturbance, and she might well bring sweetness and peace
into her husband’s life. She was very handsome, though not
particularly striking. What could be better for Totsky?

Yet the project was still at the tentative stage. It had been
mutually agreed in a friendly way between Totsky and the
general that they should take no final and irrevocable step for
a time. The parents had not even begun to speak quite openly
on the subject to their daughters; there were signs of a dis-
cordant element ; Madame Epancliin, the mother, was for some
reason evincing dissatisfaction, and that was a matter of great
importance. There was one serious obstacle, one complicated
and troublesome factor, which might ruin the whole business
completely.

This complicated and troublesome “factor” had, as Totsky

himself expressed it, come on to the scene a long time ^some

eighteen years — ^before.

Afanasy Ivanoyitch had one of his finest estates in a central
province of Russia. His nearest neighbour was the owner of a
small and poverty-stricken propertj', and was a man remarkable
for his continual and almost incredible ill-luck. He was a re-
tired officer of good family-better, in fact, than Totsky’s own—
by name Fihp Alexandrovitch Barashkov. Burdened iwth debts
uvf managed after working fearfully hard, almost

rnnHitinn^^^+ his land into a more or less satisfactory

elated Radbnr ^ fi® extraordinarily

Strict ^ to the Uttle

one of his chief ^ come to an agreement wth

twwef of h^‘i°«i two da/s in the town

oS and his cheeV village rode in with his beard burnt

. been burnt down tbp / ’ informed him that the place had
5 ha^iaS^cS before, just at midday, and ’’that his
This surprise was f no but his children were unhurt”.

he wasTo the buffetincr f Barashkov, accustomed as
tne buffeting of fortune. He went out of his mind

36

and died m delirium a month later. The ruined property with
its beggared peasants was sold to pay his debts. Afanasy
Ivanovitch Totsky in the generosity of his heart undertook to
bring up and educate Barashicov's children, two little girls of
six and seven. They were brought up with the chil(&en of
Totsky’s steward, a retired government clerk with a large
family, and, moreover, a German. The younger child died of
whooping-cough, and little Nastasya was left alone. Totsky
lived abroad and soon completely forgot her existence. Five
years later it occurred to him on his way elsewhere to look in on
his estate, and he noticed in the family of his German steward
a charming child, a girl about twelve, playful, sweet, clever and
promising to become extremely beautiful. On that subject
Afanasy Ivanovitch was an unerring connoisseur. He only spent
a few days on his estate, but he made arrangements for a great
change in the girl’s education. A respectable and cultivated
elderly Swiss governess, experienced in the higher education of
girls and competent to teach various subjects besides French,
was engaged for her. She was installed in Totsky’s country
house, and little Nastasya began to receive an education on the
broadest lines. Just four years later this education was over;
the governess left, and a lady who lived near another estate of
Totsky’s in another remote province came, by his instructions,
and took Nastasya away. On this estate there was also a small
recently built wooden house. It was very elegantly furnished,
and the place was appropriately called "The Pleasaunce’’. The
lady brought Nastasya straight to this little house, and as she
was a childless widow, living only three-quarters of a mile away,
she installed herself in the house with her. An old housekeeper
and an experienced young maid were there to wait on Nastasya.
In the house she found musical instruments, a choice library for
a young girl, pictures, engravings, pencils, paints and brushes,
a thoroughbred lap-dog, and within a fortnight Afanasy Ivano-
vitch himself made his appearance. . . . Since then he had been
particularly fond of that remote property in the steppes and
had spent two or three months there every summer. So passed
a fairly long time — four years, calmly and happily in tasteful
and elegant surroundings. '

It happened once at the beginning of mnter, four months
after one of Tolsky’s summer visits, which had on tliat occasion
lasted only a fortnight, a rumour was circulated, or rather
reached Nastasya Filippovna, that Afanasy Ivanovitch was
going to be married in Petersburg to a beautiful heiress of good

37

23

f-,mi1v_that he was, in fact, making a wealthy and
mS. The rumour turned out to be not quite correct m some
details. The supposed marriage was only a J^pject, shll y

* , . in “MacfaQva ITiliODOVIlB. S life.

bu it was a turning-point in Nastasya Filippovna’s We
PTPat detemination and quite unexpected

<;hp disnlaved great determinabon and quite _ unexpecii-u
=trength^of\ill.' Without wasting time on reflection, sh^^
her IMe house in the country and suddenly^ inade her appear-
ance in Petersburg, entirely alone, going straight to ^

was amazed, and, as soon as he began to speak to her, ho
almost from the first word that he had completely to abandon
the language, the intonations, the logic, the subjects ot tne
agreeable and refined conversations that had bem so successnU
lutherto— everything, everything! He saw sitting before mm
an entirely diferent woman, not in the least like the girl he haa

left only that July. ,

This new woman turned out, in the first place, to know ana
understand a great deal — so much that one could not but marvel
where she had got such knowledge and how she could have
arrived at such definite ideas. (Surely not from her young girl s
library!) What was more, she understood many things in their
legal aspect and had a positive knowledge, if not of the world,
at least of how some t^gs are done in the world; moreover,
she had not the same character as before. There was nothing of
the timidity, the schoolgirlish uncertainty, sometimes fascinating
in its original simplicity and playfulness, sometimes melancholy
and dreamy, astonished, mistrustful, tearful and uneasy. _

Yes, it was a new and surprising creature who laughed in
face and stung him with venomous sarcasms, openly declaring
that she had never had any feeling in her heart for him except
contempt — contempt and loathing which had come upon her
immediately after her first surprise. This new woman announced
that it was a matter of absolute indiSerence to her if he married
at once anyone he chose, but she had come to prevent his
making that marriage, and would not allow it from spite,
simply because she chose not to, and that therefore so it must

be — “if only that I may have a good laugh at you, for 1 too
want to laugh now”

That at least was what she said; she did not perhaps utter all
that was in her mind. But while tlus new Nastasya Filippovna
laughed and talked like this, Afanasy Ivanovitch was deliberat-
ing on &e position and, as far as he could, collecting his some-
what diattered ideas. This deliberation took him some time; he
was weighing things and making up his mind for a fortnight.

3S

But at tlie end of tliat fortnight he had readied a decision.

Afanasy Ivanovitch was at tliat time a man of fifty, his
character was set and his liabits formed. His position in the
world and in society had long been established on the most
secure foundations. He loved and prized himself, his peace and
comfort, above evendhing in the world, as befits a man of the
highest breeding. No destructive, no dubious clement could be
admitted into that splendid edifice wliich his whole life had been
building up. On the otlicr hand, his experience and deep insight
told Totsky very quickly and quite correctly that he had to do
with a creature quite out of the ordinary — a creature who would
not only threaten but certainly act, and, what was more, would
stick at nothing, especially as she prized nottiing in life and so
could not be tempted. Evidently there was something else in
it: there were indications of a diaotic ferment at work in mind
and heart, sometliing like romantic indignation — God knows
why and with whom! — an insatiable and exaggerated passion
of contempt; in fact, something highly ridiculous and in-
admissible in good society, and bound to be a regular nuisance
to any well-bred man. Of course, with Totsky's wealth and
connections he could at once have got rid of the annoyance by
some trifling and quite pardonable piece of villainy. On the
other hand, it was evident that Nastasya Filippovna was hardly
in a position to do much liarm, in a legal sense, for instance.
She could not even create a scandal of any consequence, because
it was so easy to circumvent her. ' But all that only applied if
Nascasj'a Fihppovna should think fit to behave as people do
behave in such circumstances without departing too widely from
the regular course. But here Totsky’s keen eye served him well :
he was clever enough to see that Nastasya Filippovna fully
realised tliat .she could not harm him by means of the law, but ,
that there was something very different in her mind and . . .
in her flashing eyes. As she valued nothing and herself least of
all (it needed much intelligence and insight in a sceptical and
worldly cjmic, such as he was, to realise tliat she had long ceased
to care what became of her, and to believe in the earnestness of
this feeling), Nastasya Filippovna was quite capable of facing
hopeless ruin and disgrace, prison and Siberia, only to humiliate
the man for whom she cherished such an inhuman aversion.
Afanasy Ivanovitch never concealed the fact that lie was some-
what a coward, or rather perhaps highly, conservative. If he
had known, for instance, that he would be murdered at the altar
on his wedding day, or that anything of that sort, e.xceedingly

39

unseemly, ridiculous, impossible m society, would happen, he
™ould. clrtainly have been alarmed; but not so much of being
Sed or wounded, or of having someone spit m his face in
oSc or of anything of that kind, as of the unnatural and
vdW fonn of *e insult. And that was ]ust what Nastasya
FiUripovna threatened, though she said nothing ^bout it. He
knevrdiat she had studied him and understood him thoroughly,
and so knew how to wound him. And as his mamage had been
merely a project, Afanasy Ivanovitch submitted and gave way

to Nastasya Filippovna. _

There was another consideration which helped him to tms
decision: it was difficult to imagine how unlike in face this new
Nastasya Filippovna was to the old one. She had been only a
very pretty young girl, but now . . . Totsky could not forgive
himself for having failed for four years to see what was in that
face. Much no doubt was due to the inward and sudden change
in their relative attitudes. He remembered, however, that there
had been moments even in the past when strange ideas had come
into his mind, looking at those ej'es. There was a promise in
them of something deep. The look in those eyes seemed dark
and mysterious. They seemed to be asking a riddle. He had
often wondered during the last two years at the change in
Nastasya Filippovna’s complexion. She had become fearfully
pale and, strange to say, was even handsomer for it. Totsky,
like all gentlemen who have lived freely in their day, felt con-
temptuously how cheaply he had obtained this virginal soul.
But of late he had been rather shaken in this feeling. He had
in any case made up his mind in the previous spring to lose no
time in marrying Nastasya Filippovna off with a good dowry to
some sensible and decent fellow serving in another province.
(Oh, how horribly and maliciously Nastasya Filippovna laughed
at the idea now!) But now Afanasy Ivanovitch, fascinated by
her novelty, positively imagined that he might again make use
of this woman. He decided to settle Nastasya Filippovna in
Petersburg and to surround her with luxury and comfort. If
not one thing, he would have the other. He might even gratify
his vanity and gain glory in a certain circle by means of her.
Afanasy Ivanovitch greatly prized his reputation in that line.

Five years of life in Petersburg had followed, and of course
many things had become clear in that time. Totsky’s position
was not an agreeable one. The worst of it was that, having been
OTce intunidated, he could never quite regain his confidence.
He was afraid and could not even tell why he was afraid — he

40

was simply afraid of Nastasya Filippovna. For some time
during the first two years he suspected &at Nastasya Filippovna
wanted to marry him herself, but did not speak from her extra-
ordinary pride and was obstinately waiting for him to make an
offer. It would have been a strange demand, but he had become
suspicious; he frowned and brooded unpleasantly. To his great
and (such is the heart of man 1 ) somewhat impleasant surprise,
he was convinced by something that happened that, even if he
made the offer, he would not be accepted. It was a long while
before he could understand this. It seemed to him that tliere
was only one possible explanation; that the pride of the
"offended and fantastic woman" had reached such a pitch of
frenzy that she preferred to express her scorn once for all by
refusing him, to securing her future position and mounting to
inaccessible heights of grandeur. The worst of it was that
Nastasya Filippovna got the upper hand of him in a shocking
way. She was not influenced by mercenary considerations
either, however large the bait, and though she accepted the
luxury offered her, she lived very modestly and had scarcely
saved anything during those five years. Totsky ventured upon
very subtle tactics to break his drains; he began, with skmul
assistance, trying to tempt her with aU sorts of temptations of
the most idealistic kind. But tire ideals in the form of princes,
hussars, secretaries from the embassies, poets, novelists, even
Socialists — ^none of them made the least impression on Nastas}^
Filippovna, as though she had a stone for a heart and her feel-
ings had been withered and dried up for ever. She lived a rather
secluded life, reading and even studying; she was fond of music.
She had few friends; she associated with the wives of petty
officials, poor and ridiculous people, was acquainted rvith two
actresses and some old women, was very fond of the family of a
respectable teacher, and the numerous members of this family
loved her and gave her a warm welcome. She would often have
five or six friends to see her in the evening. Totsky visited her
frequently and regularly. General Epanchin had with some
difficulty made her acquaintance of late. At the same time a
young government clerk, called Ferd^’shtchenko, a drunken and
ill-bred buffoon, who affected to be funny, had made her
acquaintance with no difficulty whatever. Another of her circle
was a strange young man, called Ptitsyn, modest, precise and
of highly policed manners, who had risen from poverty and
become a moneylender. At last Gavril Ardalionovitch was intro-
duced to her. . . . Nastasya Filippovna ended by gaining a

41

strange reputation. Everyone had heard of her beauty, but that
was all. No one could boast of her favours, no one had any-
thing to tell of her. This reputation, her education, her elegant
manners, her vat, all eonfirmed Totsky in a certain plan of his.

It was at this moment that General Epanchin began to take so
aetive a part in the affair.

When Totsky had so courteously approached him, asking for
his advice as a friend in regard to one of his daughters, he had
in the noblest ^vay made the general a full and candid confession.
He told him that he had made up his mind not to stick at any
means to gain his freedom; tliat he would not feel safe even if
Nastasya Filippovna assured him herself that she would leave
him in peace for the future; that words meant little to him,
that he needed the fullest guarantees. They talked things over
and determined to act together. It v.’as decided to try the
gentlest means first and to play, so to speak, on the “finer
chords of her heart”. They went together to Nastas5'a Filip-
povna, and Totsky spoke straight away of tire intolerable misety
of his position. He blamed himself for everything; he said
frankly that he could not repent of his original offence, for he
was an inveterate sensualist and could not control himself, but
that now he wanted to many, and the whole possibility of this
Mghly suitable and distinguished marriage was in her hands:
in a word, he rested all his hopes on her generous heart. Then
General Epanchin, as the father, began to speak and he talked
reasonably, avoiding sentimentality. He only mentioned that he
fully admitted her right to decide Afanasy Ivanordtch's fate, and
made a clever display of his own humhity, pointing out that the
fate of his daughter, and perhaps of liis two other daughters,
was now depending on her decision. To Nastasya Filippovna’s
they wanted of her, Totsky with the same
bald directa^ confessed that she had given him such a scare
five years before that he could not feel quite safe even now till
Nastya Fihppovna was herseff married. He added at once

^ absurd on his part,
knewfor a fartXt it. He had observed and

good birth and respectable
s^ wde^S ^^^f'^^ovitch Ivolgin, who was an acquLtance
nrJoSdv and bad long loved her

h^TlS^^iW hp ° Sive half his life for the bare

iu «.e o, hi, S F;®odS

42

vitch, who had befriended the young man, had long known of
his passion. Finally, he said lhat if he — Totsky — were not mis-
taken, Nastasya Filippovna must herself have long been aware
of the young man’s love; and he fancied indeed that she looked
on it indulgently. It was of course, he said, harder for him tlian
anyone to speak of this; but if Nastasya Filippovna would
allow that he — Totsky — had at least some thought for her good,
as well as a selfish desire to arrange for his own comfort, she
would realise that it had for some time been strange and painful
to him to see her loneliness, which was all due to vague depres-
sion and complete disbelief in the possibility of a new life, which
might spring up with new aims in love and marriage; that it
was throwing away talents perhaps of tlie most brilliant, a
wanton brooding over grief — that it was, in fact, a sort of
sentimentality unworthy of the good sense and noble heart of
Nastasya Filippovna. Repeating tliat it was harder for him
than for anyone to speak of it, he finished up by saying he
could not help hoping that Nastasya Filippovna would not
meet him witli contempt, if he expressed a genuine desire to
guarantee her future and offered her the sum of seventy-five
thousand roubles. He added in explanation that that sum was
already secured to her in his will; that, in fact, it was not a
question of compensation of any sort . . . though, indeed, why
.refuse to admit and forgive in him a human desire to do some-
thing to ease his conscience — and so on and so on, as is always
said in such circumstances. Afanasy Ivanovitch spoke elegantly
and at length. He added, as though in passing, the interesting
information that he had not dropped a word about the seventy-
five thousand, and that no one, not even Ivan Fyodorovitch
sitting here, knev/ of it.

Nastasya Filippovna's answer astounded the two friends.
She showed no trace of her former irony, her former hostility
and hatred, of the laughter which even in recollection sent a
cold shiver down Totsky's spine: on the contrary, she seemed ^
glad of the opportunity of speaking to someone with frankness
and friendliness. She acknowledged that she had long been
wanting to ask for friendly advice and that only her pride had
hindered her; but once the ice was broken, nothing could be '
better. At first, with a mournful smile and then with a gay and
pla3dul laugh, she confessed that there could in any case be no
such storm as in the past; that she had for some time past
looked at things differently, and that, although there was no
change in her heart, she had been compelled to accept many

43

things as accomplished lacts: that what was done ccmld ftnl

be undone, that what twis past sras over, fo nmeh m it U .ac

wondered at Afanasy IvanovitcnV sld! bemg un-.v \

turned to Ivan Fyodorovitch and ttiih a very

said dial she had long ago Ix-atd a (-real d--al anon! hi'. d-i‘>h‘<ww

and entertained a ptofonnd and sintcie n-j'^.ft .or S.nm. in-

new aims in children and homc-iifv, if not in As for Gavnl
Ardationovitch, she could scatcely sneah. She thought it was
true that lie loved her; she hehev<d that ;.he too might t.arc for
him, if she could believe in the reality of hr. attrichnunt; bat
even if he were sincere, he was \ery wrciog, it was hard for Jitf
to make up her mind. What slit; liked lV-1 of all about him
was Utal he was worVdng and supporting Ins family without
assistance. She had heard that he was a man of entrsty and
pride, eager to make his way, to make his career, She h.ad
heard too that his mother, Nina /Mexandrovna, was an excellent
svoman, highly respected; that his sister, Varv.ara Anlalionovna,
was a verj^ remarkable girl of great chnrartcr, rJie liad heard a
great deal about her from Plit>yn. She h.id licard th.at they
had home their mis[ortunc,s bravely. Sb.c would be very' glad
to make tlicir acquaintance, hut it was a question whether they
would welcome her into their family. She would say nothing
against the possibility of such a marri.-ige, hut she must think
more about it; she would beg them not to luirr.' her. A.s for the
seventj'-five thousand, there was no need for Afanasy Ivano-
vitch to make so much of speaking about it. She knew the
value of money and would certainly take it. She thanked
Afanasy Ivanovitch for liis delicacy in not having spoken of the
money to Gavril Ardalionotalch, or even to the general; but
why should not the young man know about it? There w.as no
M ^ to be ashamed of accepting this monev on entering
their lamily. In any case she had no intention of apologising
to anyone for anytong, and wished that to be known. She
would not rnarry Gavril Ardaliono vitch, until she was certain
family had any hidden feeling about her.
consider herself to blame in anv way;

O'’ "■■'"'t footing

ie f've years in Peten-burg, on what

een with Afanasy lvano\n!ch, and whether she

44

ha(3 laiid by aiiy money. If she accepted the money now it was
not as payment for the loss of her maidenly honour, for which
she was in no way to blame, but simply as a compensation for
her ruined life.

She grew so hot and angry saying this (which was very
natural, however) that General Epanchin was much pleased,
and considered the matter settled. But Totsky, having once
been so thoroughly scared, was not quite confident even now,
and was for a long time afraid that there might be a snake
under the flowers. But negotiations had been opened; the point
on which the whole scheme of the hvo friends rested, the possi-
bility of Nastasya Filippovna’s being attracted by Ganya, be-
came more and more clear and definite, so that even Totsky
began to believe at times in the possibility of success. Mean-
while Nastasya Filippovna came to an understanding with
Gan}^; very little was said, as though the subject were painful
to her delicacy. She recognised and sanctioned his love, how-
ever, but insisted that she would not bind herself in any way;
that she reserved for herself till the marriage (if marriage there
were) the right to say 710 up to the very last moment, and she
gave Ganya equal freedom. Ganya soon afterwards learned by
a lucky chance that Nastasya Filippovna knew in full detail aU
about his family’s hostility to the marriage and to her personally,
and the scenes at home to which it gave rise. She had not spoken
of this to him, though he was expecting it daily.

There is much more to be told of all the gossip and complica-
tions arising from the proposed match and the negotiations for
it; but we have been anticipating things already, and some of
these complications were no more than vague rumours. It was
said, for instance, that Totsky had found out that Nastasya
Filippovna had some undefined and secret understanding with
the general’s daughters — a wildly improbable story. But another
story he could not help believing, and it harmted him like a
nightmare. He heard for a fact ttet Nastasj^a Filippovna was
fully aware that Garrya was manjong her only for money; that
Ganya had a bad, mercenary, impatient, envious heart, and
that his vanity was grotesque and beyond all bounds; that
though Ganya had really been passionately striving to conquer
Nastasya Filippovna, yet after the bvo elder men had deter-
mined to exploit the incipient passion on both sides for their
own purposes, and to buy Ganya by selling to him Nastasya
Filippovna in la%vful wedlock, he began to hate her like a night-
mare. Passion and hatred were strangely mingled in his soul,

45

and although he did after painful hesitation give consent to
marry the • ‘disreputable hussy”, he swore m ins ^

her pay bitterly for it and “to take it out of her afterwards,
as he was said to have expressed it himself. It was ^moured
Nastasya Filippovna knew all tliis and had some secret plan up
her sleeve, 'lotsky was in such a panic that he even gave up
confiding his uneasiness to Epanchin; but there were momente
when, like a weak man, he readily regained his spirits ^d tooK
quite a cheerful view. He was greatly relieved, for instanM,
when Nastasya Filippovna promised the two ttends th^_ sue
would give them her final decision on the evening of her birth-
day.

On the other hand, the strangest and most incredible rumour
concerning no less honoured a person than Ivan Fyodorovitch
appeared, alas! more and more well founded as time went on-
At the first blush it sounded perfectly wild. It \ius difficult
to believe that Ivan Fyodorovitch at his venerable time of hfe,
with his excellent understanding and his practical knowledge
of the world, and all the rest of it, could have fallen under
Nastasya Filippovma’s spell himself, and that it had come to
such a pitch that this caprice had almost become a passion.
What he was hoping for it was difficult to imagine; possibly for
assistance from Ganya himself. Totsky suspected something
of the kind, at any rate; he suspected the existence of some
tacit agreement between the gener^ and Ganya, resting on their
comprehension of each other. But it is well known that a man
earned away by passion, especially a man getting on in years, is
quite blind, and prone to find grounds for hope where there are
none; what’s more, he loses his judgment and acts like a foolish
child, however great an intellect he may have. It was known
that the general had procured for Nastasya Filippovna’s birth-
day some ma^nUcent pearls, costing an immense sum, as a
present from himself, and had thought a great deal about this
present, though he knew that Nastasya Filippovna was not
mercenary. On the day before the birthday he was in a perfect
fever, tliough he successfully concealed his emotion. It was of
mose pearls that Madame Epanchin had heard. Lizaveia
Pro^otyevim had, it is true, many years’ experience of her
us an s ftghtiness, and had in fact got almost accustomed to
K “'iVu unpossible to let such an incident pass; the rumour
a great impression upon her. The general
had been uttered on the
y> e foresaw a momentous explanation coming, and
46

dreaded it. That ''''V J' "

Olftlic pretext of urgent ' nina^way. He wanted

meant in the general's ^ , above all that evening, undi^
to gaia ftat day at least, and above
tartad by bnplea^nlness. And ardden y^

;?sra7hfLt;^rLrhisaviie,

CHAPTER V

A ^ ADAME EPANCHIN fofhS^o^hei? with^t

MfamUy. What 'V hk PriSce Myshkin, the last of Ae

StT

inc her at once, turning her attenuo sensation,

avoiding the question of i,__nened, Madame Epanchm

When anything tlu-oiving back her whole

used to open her eyes very » , r without uttering

^So„. sL would ™f?SLbSand of the s™e age «

Sold. Shewasawotnanrflargeb S'.?”®™?

funiten yellow *'*?: * e 4, eyes had «

was high but ^°^Sad^?ceLd the 'veakn^ancy

"h"Xfey?S rart|wy "5““^“' ““““^ “

,ble to cHace "'"'“vmrcMlve him now, at once?"

"Receive him? You rcce gazing at Ivan

f 'ldg« ISSoTee^ - . if only

•^»nn far as tliat goes, there s w

ivitch, as he S'ed of ceremony, E only

'Oh as far as tliat goes, t the general hastened to

you don’t mind S_eeing^him. my ^ paLtic fi_^re; he h^as

dm, my f<=-^’'f4Srfi^mThe kas

SSn "He fs qitea eWld and such a path rtw

»S“ort of fits.^He has Wf, •‘“"V'Ssed, like a German,

straight from the station. H ^ almost crying. I gave hi

LdU a P“"yy'‘Sl'inUo fm^ ““ I”'* “ ”

twenty-five roubles, an

clerk in our office. And I beg you, mesdames, to offer him

wcut ca as betora.

' o™r ‘so“iJ^»Sy; and, besides, he is like a

child but well educated. I should Uke to ask you,

—he addressed his daughters again— “to him

examination; it would be as well to know what he is fit “[•

^n ex-am-in-a-tion?” drawled his rvife, and m the utmost
astonishment she rolled her eyes from her husband to her
dauehters and back again.

"Oh, my dear, don’t take it in that sense . . . but of coune
it’s iust as you please. I was meaning to be friendly to mm
and introduce him to the family, because it’s almost an act ot
charity."

"Introduce him to the family? From Switzerland?

"That’s no drawback; but, I repeat again, it’s as you like. 1
thought of it because, in the first place, he is of the same nainc,
and perhaps a relation; and besides, he’s nowhere to lay his
head. I supposed it would be rather interesting to you to sw
him, in fact, because after all he belongs to the same family.

"Of course, maman. if one needn’t stand on ceremony ivith
him. Besides he must be hungry after the journey; why not
give him something to eat, if he has nowhere to go?” said the
eldest girl, Alexandra.

"And if he is a perfect child, too. We could have a game of
bUnd man’s buff ivith him."

"Blind man’s buff! What do you mean?”

"Oh, maman, please leave off pretending 1” Aglaia inter-
rupted in vexation.

_ The second daughter, Adelaida, who was of mirthful disposi-
tion, could not restrain herself and burst out laughing.

"Send for him, papa, maman gives you leave,” Aglui^i
decided.

The general ra.ng, and told the servant to call the prince.

But on condition he has a napkin tied round his neck when
he sits at the table,” his wife insisted. "Call Fyodor or Mavra
. . . to stand behind his chair and look after him white he eats.
I only trust he is quiet w’hen he has a fit. Does he wave his
arms?

Oh, quite the opposite, he is very well bred and has charm-
ing manners; he is just a little simple sometimes. But here he
IS. Come, let me introduce Prince Myshkin, the last of the

48

name, your namesake and perhaps your kinsman; make laim
-welcome and be kind to him. Lunch will be served directly,
prince, so do us the honour. . . . But excuse me, I must hurry
off, I am late.”

‘‘We know where you are hurrying off to,” observed his wife
majestically.

‘‘I am in a hurry — I am in a hurry, my dear; I am late.
Give him your albiuns, mesdames; let him write something there
for you, tus handwriting is something exquisite. You should see
how he mote out for me in the old-world characters: 'The Abbot
Pafnuty put his hand thereto." . . . Well, good-bye.”

‘‘Pafnuty? The abbot? Stop a minute — stop a minute.
Where are you off to, and who is this Pafnuty?” his wife called
with distinct annoyance and almost agitation after her escaping
spouse.

"Yes, yes, my dear, it was an abbot who lived in old days.

. . . But I am off to the count’s, I ought to have been there
long ago; he fixed the hour himself. . , , Good-bye for tire
present, prince.”

■The general retired with rapid steps.

‘ ‘I know what count he is going to see,” Lizaveta Prokofyevna
pronounced sharply, and she turned her eyes irritabty to the
prince. "What was it?” she began peevishly and grumpily,
trying to remember. "Well, what was it? Ah, yes, what
abbot? . .

“Mainan/' Alexandra was beginning; and Aglaia even
stamped her foot.

"Don't interfere with me, Alexandra Ivanovna,” snapped the
mother. "I want to know too. Sit here, prince, here on this
easy-chair, opposite me; no, here. Move into the sun, nearer
the light, so that I may see you. Well, what abbot?"

"The Abbot Pafnuty,” answered Myshkin attentively and
seriously.

“Pafnuty? That's interesting. Well, what about him?”

The lady asked her questions impatiently, rapidly, sharply,
keeping her eyes fixed on the prince; and when Myslikin
answered, she nodded her head at every word.

"The Abbot Pafnuty of the fourteenth century,” began
Myshkin. "He was at the head of a monastery on the Volga in
what is now |he province of Kostroma. He was famous for his
holy life. He visited the Tatars, helped in the management of
public affairs, and signed some document. I’ve seen a copy of
the signature. I liked the handwriting and I imitated it. When

49

the general wanted to sec my wnting just now so as to find me
a job, I wrote several phrases in different handwritings, and
among others I WTote ‘The Abbot Pafnuty put liis hand thereto
in the abbot's own handwriting. The general liked it very much,
and so he spoke of it just now."

"Aglaia," said Madame Epanchin, ‘'remember Pafnuty, or
better write it down, else 1 always forget. But I thought it
would be more interesting. Where is this signature?”

‘‘I think it was left in the general’s study, on the table.”

"Send at once and fetch it.”

"Hadn’t I better write it again for you, if you like?”

"Of course, maman/’ said Alexandra. "But now we had

better have lunch, we are hui.gry.”

"Quite so,” assented her mother. "Come along, prince. Are
you very hungry?”

"Yes, I’ve begun to be very hungry now, and I am very
grateful to you."

"It’s a very good tiring that you are polite, and I notice you
are not nearly such a . . . queer creature as you were described.
Come along. Sit here, facing me.” She insisted on making
Myshkin sit down when tliey went into the dining-room. ”1
want to look at you. Alexandra, Adelaida, help the prince to
something. He is really not such an . . . invalid, is he? Perhaps
the table-napkin is not necessary. . . , Used you to have a
napkin tied round your neck at meal-times, prince ? ' '

Long ago, when I was seven, I believe I did, but now I
usually have my napkin on mv knee at meal-times **

■‘Quite, right. And your fits'? ”

Fits? The prince was a little surprised. "My fits don’t
happen very often now. But I don’t know; I am told tire
climate here will make me worse.”

qHp turning to her daughters;

rliL-f » her head at every word Myshkin uttered. “I

j uonsensc, as usual. Help

i "’cre born and where

fnteS m“ Sely”!’ ' S'”"' y™

besan’ eating with excelicnt appetite
that mominfr repeated several times

the eirls too 'liX^ pleased witli him:

relatfomh o They worked out the

ahty w7’ LtT -f ^ Ws family-tree

ainy weU. But in spite of their efforts they could make out

50

scarcely any connexion between him and Madame Epanchin.
Among the grandfathers and the grandmothers a distant kin-
ship might be discovered. The lady was particularly delighted
with this dry subject, for she scarcely ever had a chance of in-
dulging her tastes by discussing her pedigree. So she got up from
table quite excited.

“Come, all of you, into our assembly-room,” she said, “and
we'll have coffee there. We have a room where we all meet,”
she said to Myshkin, as she led him there. ‘ 'My little drawing-
room, where we assemble and sit when we are alone and each
of us does her work. Alexandra, my eldest daughter here, plays
the piano or reads or sews; Adelaida paints landscapes and
portraits (and can never finish anything); and Aglaia sits doing
nothing. I am not much good at work either; I can never get
anything done. Well, here we are. Sit here, prince, by the
fire and tell me something. I want to know how you tell
a story. I want to be fully convinced, and when I see old
Princess Byelokonsk}^ I shall tell her all about you. I want
them all to be interested in you too. Come, tell me some-
thing.” ,

“But, maman, it’s very queer to tell a story like that,”
observed Adelaida, who had by now set up her easel, taken out
her brushes and palette, and was setting to work copying from
an engraving a landscape she had begun long ago.

Alexandra and Aglaia sat down on a little sofa and, folding
their arms, prepared to listen to the conversation. M5rshkin
observed that he was a centre of attraction on all sides.

"I would never say anything if I were told to like that,”
observed Aglaia.

“Why not? What is there queer about it? Why shouldn’t
he tell me something? He has a tongue. I want to know how
he can describe things. Come, anything. Tell us how you Iflced
Switzerland, your first impression of it. You will see, he’ll begin
directly, and begin well too.”

“It was a strong impression” . . . Myshlun was beginning.

“There, you see,” the eager lady broke in, addressing her
daughters, “he has begun.”

“Do let him speak at last, maman" said Alexandra, checking
her. “This prince may be a great rogue and not an idiot at all,”
she whispered to Aglaia.

“No doubt of it; I’ve seen that a long while,” answered
Aglaia. “And it’s horrid of him to play a part. Is he trying
to gain something by it?”

5 ^

"My first impression was a very strong one,” Myshkin re-
peated. ( “When I was brought from Russia trough various
German towns, I simply looked about in silence and, I
remember, asked no questions. That was after a long series of
violent and painful attacks of my illness, and when my com-
plaint was at its worst and my fits frequent, I always sank into
complete stupefaction. I lost my memory, and though my brain
worked, the logical sequence of ideas seemed broken. I couldn't
comiect more than two or three ideas together. That’s how it
seems to me. When the fits became less frequent and violent,
I became strong and healthy again as I am now. I remember
I w'as insufferably sad; I wanted to cry. I was all the while lost
in wonder and uneasiness. What affected me most was that

everything was strange; I realised that. I w'as crushed by the
strangeness of it. I was finally roused from this gloomy state,
I remember, one evening on reaching Srvitzerland at Bale, and
I was roused by the bray of an ass in the market-place. I w^as
iminensely struck with the ass, and for some reason extra-
ordinarily pleased with it, and suddenly everything seemed to
clear up in my head.”

An ass? That’s odd,” observed Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
Yet there s nothing odd about it; one of us may even fall in
love wth an ass,” she observed, looking wrathfully at the laugh-
mg girk. It s happened in mythology. Go on, prince.”

1 ve been awfully fond of asses ever since; they have a
special attraction for me. I began to ask about them because
i d never seen one before, and I understood at once what a
useful creature it was— industrious, strong, patient, cheap, long-
si^nng. And so, through the ass, all Switzerland began to
melancholy passed completely.”
rnmo ^ Strange, but you can pass over the ass; let's

you keep laughing, Aglaia?
splendfdly\bout the

^4er?ee?4mad.”^'"'^’

"'Anrf-vf “ said Adelaida.

Th asserted Aglaia

"ThSk'Af agam. Myshkm laughed with them,
excusf them So. "You must

quarreUingwitlfthem’bSTln^^tT?””'^'-?^^^®'^' ^ ^

less madcaps.” ’ them. They are flighty, thought-

"^Vhy?” laughed Myshkin. "I should have done the same

52

in their place. But still I stand up for the ass; the ass is a good-
natured and useful creature."

"And arc you good-natured, prince? I ask from curiosity,”
inquired Madame Epanchin.

They all laughed again.

"That hateful ass again! I rvasn't thinking about it," cried
the lady. "Believe me, prince, I spoke without any . .

"Hint? Oh, I believe you certainly." And Myslikin went
on laughing.

"I am glad you are laughing. I see you are a very good-
natured young man," said Lizaveta Prokof3'evna.

"I am good-natured,” the lady put in unexpectedly, "and
if j'ou like I am alwaj’s good-natured, you may say; it’s my
one failing, for one oughtn’t to be always good-natured. I get
angry often with these girls, and still more witli Ivan Fyodoro-
vitdi; but the worst of it is that I am always more good-natured
when I am angry. Just before you came in I was angry and
pretended that I didn’t and couldn’t understand anything. I
am like that sometimes; like a child. Aglaia pulled me up.
Thank you for the lesson, Aglaia. But it's all nonsense. I am
not quite such a fool as I seem and as my daughters would like
to make me out. I have a will of my o\vn and am not easily
put to shame. But I say this without malice. Come here,
Aglaia, give me a Idss, there . . . that’s fondling enough," she
observed, when Aglaia had with real feeling kissed her on the
lips and on the hand. "Go on, prince. Perhaps you will
remember something more interesting than an ass.”

"I don’t understand how anyone can describe straight off
like that," Adelaida observed again. "I couldn't tliink of anr^-
thing.”

"But the prince will tloink of sometlung, for he is e.xtremely
clever — at least ten times as clever as you are, very likely twelve
times. I hope you w'll feel it after this. Prove it to them,
prince, go on. You really can pass over the ass now. What did
you see abroad besides the ass?”

"It was clever about the ass too," observed Alexandra. "It
was interesting what the prince told us of his invalid condition
and how one external shock made everything pleasant to him.
I've ahvays been interested to know how people go out of tlieir
minds and recover again. Especially when it happens all of a
sudden."

"Yes, yes,” cried her mother eagerly. "I see that you can
be clever sometimes too. Well, come, stop laughing. You were

53

Well?"

how beautiful it was but T \ to the lake. I felt

Myshkin. I felt dreadfully depressed bv it, ” said

<.?M:’.esked Alex-andn,

V — J

<^'Jyi;’g;dAle.xandra.

tte sight of such a lairdscaoe' depressed and unea^at
and uneasy. But that was 3^1?? ^ ^^PPy

I should a^vfullv f still ill.”

understand whv ”

^iiuuia awuHv lu... * ^ "as sun in."

nnderstend why ^TCVo^t eVah Adelaida. "I can't

Sie PuinC f f’^ven't been able to

South have been p^fnSd Inn The East and

a picture, prince.” ago. Find me a subject for

"I kno ^ subject tor

^ee and to 'paint”’’ ^ should have thought you've

• tail of it/’^int,^"P talking Addles:

It knowine hn,., i-P‘^*f tter motlier. "V

or

If

tell

not kr,n^'■ luterrupted her i ^ ^an’t make h

how toie? Vo?’,?""-, ‘f'’ y°ti mean

us how ynu won't Ipt ni'cs; see with them.

'7«s, Wr..lt, p*,°" ‘.‘'

!” " TZ'z:

Then
You might

I was parliciiLiriy restless at some moments. You know there
arc such moments, especially in solitude. There was a small
waterfall there; it fell from a height on the mountain, such a
tiny thread, almost perpendicular — foaming, white and splash-
ing. Ti'.ough it fell from a great height it didn’t seem so high;
it was the third of a mile .away, but it only looked about fifty
pace.s. I used to like listening to the sound of it at night. At
such moments I was sometimes overcome with great restfessness;
sometimes too at midday I wandered on the mountains, and
stood alone half-way up a mountain surrounded by great ancient
resinous pine-trees; on the crest of the rock an old medieval
castle in mins; our little village far, far below, scarcely visible;
bright sunsliinc, blue sky, and the terrible stillnc.ss. At such
times I felt something w’a’s drawing me away, and I kept fancy-
ing that if I walked straight on, far, far away and reached tlrat
line where skj' and earth meet, there I should find the key to the
mystcrj', there I should see a new life a thousand times richer
and more turbulent tlian ours. I dreamed of some great toum
like Kaplcs, full of palaces, noise, roar, life. And I dreamed of
all sorts of things, indeed. But aftenvards I fancied one might
find a wealth of life even in prison.”

"That last edifyang reflection I read when I was twelve in my
‘Ecadcr’,” said Aglaia.

"That's all philosophy,” obscrv'cd Adelaida. "You are a
philosopher and have come to instmet us.”

"Pernaps you arc right,” smiled Myshkin, "I am really a
philosopher pcriiaps, and — ^who knows? — perhaps I really have
a notion of instnicting. , . . That’s possible, truly.”

"And your philosophy? is just like Ycvlampia Nikolay’cvna’s,”
.Aglaia put in again, “She is the widow of a clerk, who comes
to see us, rather like a poor relation. Cheapness is her one
object in life — to live as cheaply as possible, and she talks of
notliing but farthings. And yet she has money, j'ou know; she
is sly. That’s like your wealth of life in prison; perhaps, too,
your four years of happiness in the country for which you bar-
tered your Naples; and you seem to have gained by the bargain,
though it was a petty one."

"There may bo two opinions about life in prison,” said
Myshkin. "A man who spent twelve y'cars rn prison told me
somctliing. He was one of tlic invalids in the care of my pro-
fessor. He had fits; he was sometimes restless, wept, and even
tried to kill himself. His life in prison had been a very? sad
one, I assure you, but not at all potty. Yet he had no friends

55

Jim. He was to be shnf ? ^ sentence of ri„ ^ Jed out
afer a reprieve read o??r

r~s;ssS£!is

sfandine th ^ound wS^^h n^inutes tL ^ <o

Itae «"<< Otic, !>““

tie nocfc ^ ‘Criminals. TfiA i'® stuck in the m-r.,, J^°PJe were

P^S'ov£ thefr'?'" S/was“puH“"^^

vast ivealth; he if, ^'""a seemed Si. •”’“" <» livi iS ?S

Minutes fhaf +u ^ ^ he har? c* fnfip,;# told

r a

to take leave o/J?® hirttm ^ the

J^’ept another t^n ‘^^“rades, set

®inute to 7nM° ,°“°utes to thini- ? tninutes for irne

vei5' ^^°ut him for ,? he

tw?ntJ2vS^"j? He then a

^'^es?he remeS,?^.^'^ healfty He

‘J^^stion ^'ng one oflL^® Jeave of

ri’A" he saTd ^omewhafc^^

-hen he Sd "^“1 P^Bylnf somSaf ^

-°u^d thfak'il'f ^^self^°lg“«£^ ‘=^e"tha?h2;^^^«

™ S’iSeT ■■' bfS'j '^»'as’'57J,'j“'S wt1 f<

Slisteeiig £V % ?® “tSSS”' 1 ''W^fuSa?.'' 1™-

It; he could not If nr liijnsclf away from the light. It seemed
to him that (hose Kiy.s were his new nature and that in three
minutes lie would somehow* melt into them. . . . The uncer-
taint}' and feeling of aversion for that new tiling which would
lie and was just coming was awful. But he said that nothing
was so dreadful at that time as the continual thought: 'What
if I were not to die! W'hat if I could go back to life — what
etcniitj'! And it would ail be mine! I would tum cvcr\’ minute
into an age; I would lose nothing, I would count every minute
as it passed, I would not waste one!’ He .said that tiiis idea
turned to such a for\' at last Uiat he longed to be shot quickly."

^lyslikin suddenly ceased speaking, cvcrj'one c.xpccted him
to go on and draw some conclusion.

"Have j’ou finislicd?" asked Aglaia.

"What? Yes," said Myshkin, rousing himself from a momen-
tarj’ dreaminess.

"But what did you tell that sforj' for?"

"Oh . . . something in our talk reminded me of it. . .

"You arc vciy disconnected,” ob.'cn'cd Alc.vandm. "You
probab!}' meant to sliow, prince, that not one instant of life can
be considered petty, and that sometimes five minutes is a
precious treasure. That’s all very laudable, but let me ask, how
did that friend who told you such horrors ... he was reprieved,
so he was presented witli that 'eternity of life'. What did lie
do with that wealth aftenvards? Did he live counting each
moment?”

"Oh no, he told me himself. I asked him about that too.
He didn't live like that at all; he w.istcd man\*, many minutes.”

"Well, tlicrc you have it tried. So it seems it's impossible
really to live 'counting each moment’. For some reason it's
impossible."

"Yes, for some reason it is impossible,” repeated Myshkin.
"I thought so inj-self . . . and yet I somehow can't believe
it. . . ."

"Then you think you rvill live more wisely than anyone?"
said Aglaia.

"Yes. I have thought that too sometimes."

"And you think so still?"

"Yes ... 1 tliink so still,” ansivered Myshkin, looking at
Aglaia with the same gentle and even timid smile; but he laughed
again at once and looked gaily at her.

"That’s modest,” said Aglaia almost irritabty.

"But how brave you are, you laugh 1 But I was so impressed

57

I must confess I was riveted to the spot; I could not take my
eyes off it."

"I couldn’t have taken my eyes off it either,” said Aglaia.

“They don't like women to look on at it; they even write
about such women in the papers.”

“I suppose, if they consider that it’s not fit for women, they
mean to infer (and so justify it) that it is fit for men. I con-
gratulate tliem on their logic. And you think so too, no doubt.”

‘‘Tell us about the execution,” Adelaida interrupted.

"I don't feel at all inclined to now.” Myshkin was confused
and almost frowned.

"You seem to grudge telling us about it,” Aglaia said taunt-
ingly.

"No; but I’ve just been describing that execution.”

"Describing it to whom?”

"To your footman while I was waiting . . .”

"To which footman?” he heard on all sides.

"The one who sits in the entry, with grey hair and a red face.
I sat in the entry waiting to see Ivan Fyodorovitch.”

"That’s odd,” said tlie general’s wife.

"The prince is a democrat," Aglaia rapped out. "Well, if }'ou
told Alexey about it, you can’t refuse us.”

"I simply must hear about it,” said Adelaida.

"One thought came into my mind just now,” Myshkin said
to her, growing rather more eager again (he seemed easily roused
to confiding eagerness), "when you asked me for a subject for
a picture, to suggest that you should paint the face of the con-
demned man the moment before the blade falls, when he is still
standing on the scaffold before he lies down on the plank.”

"The face? The face alone?” asked Adelaida. "That would
be a strange subject. And what sort of picture would it
make?”

"I don’t know. Why not?” Mj’shkin insisted warmly. "I
saw a picture like that at Bale not long ago. I should like to
tell you about it. . . . I’ll tell you about it some day. ... It
struck me very much.”

"You shall certainly tell us afterwards about the picture at
Bale,” said Adelaida; "and now explain the picture of this
execution. Can you tell me how you imagine it to yourself?
How is one to draw the face? Is it to be only the face? What
sort of a face is it?”

"It’s practically the minute before death,” Myshkin began
with periect readiness, carried away by his memories and to all

59

appearance instantly forgetting everything else, "that moment
when he has just mounted the ladder and has just stepped on to
the scaffold. Then he glanced in my direction. I looked at
his face and 1 understood it all. . - . But how can one describe
it? I wish, I do wish that you or someone would paint it. It
would be best if it were you. I thought at the time that a picture
of it would do good. You know one has to imagine everything
that has been beibre— everything, everything. He has been in
prison awaiting execution for a week at least; he h^ been
reckoning on the usual formalities, on the sentence being for-
warded somewhete for signature and not coming back again for
a week. But now by some chance this business was over sooner.
At five o’clock in the morning he was asleep. It was at the end
of October; at fist: o’clock it was still cold and dark. The super-
intendent of the prison came in quietly with the guard and
touched him carefully on tlie shoulder. He sat up, leaning on
his elbow, saw’ the light, asked ‘What’s the matter?' 'The
e.xecution is at ten o’clock." He was half awake and couldn’t
take it in, and began objecting that the sentence wouldn’t be
ready for a w'eek. But when he was fully awake he left off
protesting and r-ras silent — ^so I was told. Then he said: ‘But
it’s hard it should be so sudden. . . .’ And again he was sileat
and wouldn't say anything more. The next three or four hours
are spent on the usual things: seeing the priest, breakfast at
which he is given wine, coffee and beef (isn’t that a mockery?
Onl}’ think how cruel it isl Yet, on the other hand, would you
believe it, these innocent people act in good faith and are con-
vinced that it's humane): then the toilet (do you know what a
criminal’s toilet is?); and at last they take him through the
town to the scaffold. ... I think that he too must have thought
he had an endless time left to live, while he was being driven
through the town. He must have thought on the way ; 'There's
a long time left, three streets more. I shall pass through this one,
then through the nest, then there’s that one left where there’s
a linker's on the right. . . . It’ll be a long time before we get
to the baker’s!’

"There were crowds of people, there was noise and shouting;
ten thou^nd faces, ten thousand eyes—all tliat he has had to

‘They are ten thousand,
^ cxKutcd, and I am to be executed.’

\\c 1 all that !s preparatory. There is a ladder to the scaffold,
suddenly at the foot of the ladder he began to erv and he was
= arons m,„ly Mo„, h= had baan a

6o

The priest never left him for a moment; he drove with him in
the cart and talked wth him all the wliile. I doubt whether
he heard; he inigttt begin listening and would not understand
more than two words. So it must have been. At last he began
going up tlio ladder; his legs were tied together so that he could
only move svith tiny stops. The priest, who must have been an
intelligent man, left off speaking and only gave him the cross to
kiss. At the foot of die ladder he was ver^^ pale, and when he
was at the top and standing on tlic scaffold, he became as white
as paper, as white as writing paper. His legs must have grown
weak and wooden, and I expect he felt sick — as though some-
thing were choking ium and that made a sort of ffckling in lus
throat. Have you ever fell that when you were frightened, or
in awful moments when all your reason is left, but it has no
power? I think that if one is faced by inevitable destruction —
if a house is falling upon j'ou, for instance — one must feel a
great longing to sit down, close one’s eyes and trait, come what
may. . . . When tliat weakness was beginning, tlio priest with
a rapid movement h.astilj' put the cross to lus lips — a little plain
silver cross — he kept putting it to his lips evciy minute. And
every rime the cross touched his Ups, he opened his eyes and
seemed for a few seconds to come to life again, and his legs
moved. He kissed the cross greedily; he made haste to kiss, as
though in haste not to forget to provide himself witlj something
in case of need; but I doubt whcUicr he had any religious feel-
ing at the time. And so it was till he w'as laid on the plank . . .
It's strange that people rarely faint at tlicsc last moments. On
thecontrary, the brain is c,\traordinarilylivelyand must be work-
ing at a tremendous rate — at a tremendous rate, like a machine
at full speed. I fancy that there is a continual throbbing of ideas
of all sorts, always unfinished and perhaps absurd too, quite
irrelevant ideas: ‘That man is looking at me. He has a \rart
on his forehead. One of the executioner’s buttons is rusty’ . . .
and yet all the while one kno^vs and remembers everytWng.
There is one point which can ne%'cr be forgotten, and one can’t
faint, and cvcrj'thing moves and turns about it, about that
point. And onlj' think that it must be like that up to tlie last
quarter of a second, when his head lies on the block and he waits
and , . . knows, and suddenly hears above him the clang of
tlie iron! He must hear that! If I were lying there, I should
listen on purpose and hear. It may last only the tenth part of
a second, but one would be sure to hear it. And only fanc}', it’s
still disputed whetlier, when the head is cut off, it knows for a

6i c

second after that it has iKen cut ofl I \Vliat an idea 1 And what
if it knows it for five seconds t

"Paint the scaffold so that only tiie last step can be distinctly
seen in the foreground and the criminal having just stepped on
it; his head, his face as white as paper; the priest holding up
the cross, the man greedily putting forward liis blue lips and
looking — and aware of cverydfiing. Ihe cross and the head—
that’s the picture. The priest’s face and the executioner’s, liis
two attendants and a few heads and eyes below might be painted
in the background, in half-light, as the setting, . . , That’s tlic
picture!”

' Iilj^kin ceased speaking and looked at them all.

"That’s nothing hke quietism, certainly,” said Alexandra to
herself,

"And now tell us how’ you were in love,” said Adelaida.
Myshkin looked at her w'iUi astonishment.

"Listen,” Adelaida said, seeming rather hurried. "You
promised to tell us about the Bale picture, but now I should
like to hear how you have been in love. Don't deny it, you must •
have been. Besides, as soon as you begin describing anything,
you cease to be a philosopher."

"As soon as you have finished telling us anytHng, you seem
to be ashamed of what you've said," Aglaia observed suddenly.
"Why is tliat?”

“How stupid that is!" snapped her mother, looking indig-
nantly at Aglaia.

"It’s not clever,” Alexandra assented.

"Don’t believe her, prince," said Madame Epanchin, turning
to him. "She does it on purpose from a sort of malice; she has
really not been so badly brought up. Don’t think the worse of
them for teasing you like this; they must be up to some mis-
chief. But they like you already, I know. I know their faces."

"I know their faces too,” said Myshkin with peculiar
emphasis.

"What do you mean?” asked Adelaida curiously.

"What do you know about our faces?" the two others
inquired too.

But Myshkin did not speak and was grave. They all waited
for his answer. ^

''I'U teU you afterwards," he said gently and gravely.

You are trymg to rouse our curiosity,” cried Aglaia. "And
what solemmty ! " ®

"Very well,” Adelaida interposed hurriedly again, "but if

62

you arc such a connoisseur in faces, you certainl3'’niust have been
m love, so I guessed right. TcU us about it."

"I haven’t been in love," answered Myshkin as gently and
gravely as before. "I . . . have been happy in a different
waj',”

"How? In what?"

"Very well. I'll tell j'ou," said JIj'shkin, as tliough meditating
profoundljf.

CHAPTER VI

Y OU arc all looking at me with such interest," began
Myslikin, "that if I didn't satisfy it you might be angry
with me. No. I am joldng,” he added quickl3\ with a smile.
"There were lots of children there, and 1 was always witli tlie
children, onlj' willi tlic children. They were the children of the
village, a whole crowd of school-cliildrcn. It was not that I
taught them. Oh, no, there was a schoolmaster for tliat — ^Jules
Thibaut. I did teach them too, perhaps, but for tire most part
I was simply with them, and all those four years were spent in
their company. I wanted nolliing else. I u.eed to tell them every-
tliing; I concealed nothing from them. Their fathers and rela-
tions were all cross with me, for the children couldn't get on
witliout me at last, and were alwaj's flocking round me, aird the
schoolmaster at last became my chief enemy. I made many
enemies there, and all on account of the children. Even
Schneider reproved me. And what were they afraid of?
Children can be told anytliing — anything, I've always been
struck by seeing how little grown-up people understand children,
how little parents even understand their own children. Nothing
should be concealed from children on the pretext that they arc
little and that it is too early for them to understand. What a
miserable and unfortunate idea 1 And how readily the children
detect that their fathers consider tliem too little to understand
anything, though they understand everything. Grown-up people
do not know' that a child can give exceedingly good advice even
in the most difficult ease. Oh, dearl when that pretty little bird
looks at 3'ou, happy and confiding, it’s a shame for you to
deceive it. I call them birds because there's nothing better than
a bird in the world. What really set all the village against me
was something that happened . , . but Thibaut was simply
envious of me. At first he used to shake his head and wonder
how it was the children understood everything from me and

63

hjmself I Tile soul is healed bv bein^t^vf^ children

was one patient in Schneidcr’s^inlf^^.-'’^^'*^ ’'^'^''^"' • • . ^icre

Jyf ^-licther there coul^bc iLv ^ 'TO' unhappy man

2#§p;sP|=fS

ISsiii-air*

^nd they bepTn ^ 5 ed to Itm^k * * * '

Marie. AndTnri T^^ at me at, or

Myshkin Sade S “"ce ! kiss

listeners. il,c sn^uVon lJf ^

what an unhaonv h^in^ ^ question of Jove If
her, as I was ^siL r § "’“S- you woulrl h hnew

woman. One of tho'^i ^ village. Her^mo'tiy'^^'

house was S aSarl^h ° of the'r

from it the old wnm\^^ Permission of the vi)ld«^^ h'tlle

and soap. It all camo io sell ]ac£ fT^horities, and

lived on. She \v^c ^ halfpence anri ti, * lobacco
she could not move”f*”'"^l'^’ legs were iii "’hatslie
a girl of hvenh™Tvn^°"* i’" ^'cat. JlS M ‘hat

for a long time but ‘^ 1 "- She had daughter,

work — scrubbing Ann ^™ui houce tr> consumptive

lug cattle. A ReS^onT^” •^' sweeping
her away, and a w2k TaTe?A l^'-cher^seduc^"?"

She made her wnv ^ ‘ ^ deserted her anri 7 ,^ . ^ud took
^th her shoS SiJ°T" ^TSglug. the sly.

spent the nighte Tn tf, She was a '""'1 1" ra^,

feet were covered ^-ih ^"d caught a hack,

swollen. She w^<;n'f'^^ sores, her hanAc ^ fearful cold. Her
gentle, kind anH^n before, thS- "T '^happed and

vjen she^i^ttSThe h

ne Was surprised anti v. f*egan singing anri r ^ silent. Once
Marie singi^I ’ laughing^’ -^5 remember everv-

64 ' one had any

sympathy for her. How cruel people are in that way! What
hard ideas they have about such things 1 Her mother, to begin
with, received her with anger and contempt; 'You have dis-
graced me.’ She was the first to abandon her to shame. As
soon as they heard in the village that Marie had come home,
everyone went to have a look at her, and almost all the village
assembled in the old woman's cottage — old men, children,
women, girls, everyone — an eager, hurty^ing crowd. Marie was
lying on the ground at the old woman’s feet, hungry and in rags,
and she was weeping. When tliey all ran in, she hid her face in
her dishevelled hair and lay face downwards on the floor. They'
all stared at her, as though she were a reptile; the old people
blamed and upbraided her, the young people laughed; the
women reviled and abused her and looked at her with loathing,
as though she had been a spider. Her mother allowed it all;
she sat there nodding her head and approving. The mother was
very ill at the time and almost dying: two months later she
did die. She knew she was dying, but up to the time of her death
she didn’t dream of being reconciled to her daughter. She
didn’t speak one word to her, turned her out to sleep in tlie
entry, scarcely gave her anydliing to eat. She had to be con-
stantly bathing her bad legs in hot water. Marie batlied her lep
every day and waited on her. She accepted all her services in
silence and never said a kind v/ord to her. Marie put up with
everything, and afterwards when I made her acquaintance I
noticed that she thought it all right and looked on herself as the
lowest of the low, ^ When the old mother was completely bed-
ridden, the old women of the village came to sit up with her in
turns, as their custom is. Then they gave up feeding Marie
altogether, and in the village everyone drove her away and no
one would even give her work, as before. Everyone, as it were,
spat on her, and the men no longer looked on her as a woman
even; they would say all sorts of nasty things to her. Sometimes,
though not often, when the men got drunk on Sunday, they
would amuse themselves by throwing farthings to her, just
flinging them on the ground. Marie would pick them up without
a word. She had begun to spit blood by that time. At last
her clothes were in absolute tatters, so that she was ashamed
to show herself in the village. She had gone barefoot since she
came back. Then the children particularly, the whole troop of
them — there were about forty school children — ^began jeering,
and even throwing dirt at her. She asked the cowherd to let
her look after the cows, but he drove her away. Then she began

65

s-or ■“=

and he noticed it, he no ioneer^roi cowheS'

He looked upon tlus as a ercat kin^n Ws dinner

mother died, tiie pastor dif not t , ''Tjcn her

coffin, as she was, in hor stood crvdnp'

Dastn°^ standing b3Mhe^c?ffin^ of people had^colLtJd

pastor_he was a youne San u- flying. Then the

This was hntr -t- u ' ° ^ogun

fSthSg atfhatlSi’^I^Iad but ^

forty. I was^a

we met bv a hpri£ °nif.bying to meet certainly worth

mountaim^behin?! v£ge oTl k°""-

told her to take care nf P’ca I gave her tho^ .^Wath to the
I kissed her and said tliat^'?'^ ^ should have^nn*^ francs and
mtent, and that I iSLed^* mustn’t think T ? ^^*^0

but because I was vpor °ot because I vac • ^ nny evil
^ veiy b^S:^,^°^f°jher. S her,

happy. I wa^ed®ve^"l^^°f her as "ever, from

persuade her that ehp ? ®ach to comfort h ' only as un-
but I th:l „^l®,he shouldn’t rnn^i^°'^ her at once an^

pelade heTSfshn T^ ^o^^oT^'’

but I think she didn't herself fo

she scarcely snoke aii ^*forstand. f ga^ tv, ^ below everyone,
down and hoi^ly abaS%*™® ^“d stood^f^^ though
pay hand, and I S When me, looking

It, but she nnlip^f u ““ fook her han^ ^mshed, she kissed

-y ha^r ^dTX ^en^Xd

It, but she p^ed it ‘°°h her hand and^'^^hod, she kissed

*e whole lot of fteL tV then tie"'’°i?-^ kissed

keenmp mem. J Jeamf en the duldrpn ...

are whoriofortitfm^^-^V SSe^d

hoepmg watch on i^e for ^forwa?ds saw a®,

oo tor some time. Thev I had been
66 began whisthng.

clapping their hands and laughing, and Marie ran away. I tried
to speak to them, but they began tlirowing stones at me. The
same day everyone knew of it, the whole village. The whole
brunt of it fell on Marie again; they began to dislike her more
than ever. I even heard that they \vanted to have her
punished by the authorities, but, thank goodness, that didn’t
come off. But the children gave her no peace: they teased
her more than ever and threw dirt at her; they chased her,
she ran away from them, she with her weak lungs, panting and
gasping for breath. They ran after her, shouting and reviling
her. Once I positively had a fight with them. Then I began
talking to them; I talked to them every day as much as I
could. They sometimes stopped and listened, though they still
abused me. I told them how unhappy Marie was; soon they
left off abusing me and walked away in silence. Little by little,
we began talking together. I concealed nothing from them,
I told them the whole story. They listened with great interest
and soon began to be sorry for Marie. Some of them greeted
her in a friendly way when they met. It’s the custom there
when you meet people, whether you know them or not, to bow
and wish them good morning. I can fancy how astonished
Marie was. One day tivo little girls got some things to eat and
gave them to her; they came and told me of it. They told me
that Marie cried, and that now they loved her very much. Soon
all of them began to love her, and at the same time they began
to love me too. They took to coming to see me often, and always
asked me to tell them stories. I think I must have told them
well, for they were very fond of listening to me. And after-
wards I read and studied simply to have things to tell them, and
for the remaining three years I used to tell them stories. Later
on, when everybody blamed me — and even Schneider — ^for talk-
ing to them like grown-up people and concealing nothing from
them, I said that it was a shame to deceive them; that they
understood ever3d:hing anyway, however much things were con-
cealed from them, and that they learnt it perhaps in a bad ^vay;
but not so from me. One need only remember one’s own
childhood. They did not agree. ... I kissed Marie a fortnight
before her mother died; by the time the pastor delivered his
harangue, all the children had come over to my side. I at once
told them of the pastor’s action and explained it to them. They
were all angry with him, and some of them were so enraged
that they threw stones and broke his windows. I stopped them,
for that was wrong; but everyone in the village heard of it at

67

attSS tha'llhfcWId^enToTf?!^

dreadfully horrified; but ManV i ^ jMane, and were
tabldto to moot her, tofthev^ mi!'’?'- T*’' »"«

herds, nearly half a mile from • f ° '^he kept the
JamUos, siSpt, ^ ""?6e- Tboy carriS £

Jevousaune, Marie’ anrfrV.rK°“t * ’"S hiss her civ

cany them. iMariewas'aCsfhp5f\“ “ ^eir legs would

happiness; she had never dreamed of unlooked-for

was shamefaced and joyful What P°^’hility of it. She
™ost, especially tlie eirlc children liked dninv

her and had talked to them to tell her riiat I wf

to ll.at I told thS alSot iS'r' Tl. J low

and pibed her and alwayrwoMldT f u ‘hey lovSd he-

^-nbS !lf I-

as 7,

sSed have h her. I

that they gulsS'rijr'An^^'^ u ^ "othingSfj„f'?f
and wtCt shnic w that

??" w«vo7’l S,7(y teod

How they managefi^^^^^u '^ven^

worked, men r .• ^ ^ '^an't make nnt ^uie sort,

and the girls claDi»d^+n°°'^ them, they onlv '^hole troop

and could scarcelv W 7 t.ii ^he wnc hv tu'^I ^ somebmes

the herdsman, S vet ' J" ^’d^he ‘hne very iU

^ttle. She used to c? a hm"'®* out eve|f for

out in an overhansinp- ,i * ^Pari. There tnlh the

sit out of sight onTh^’ A^°st verh’cal rock ti.^^ ^ ^“^Se jutting
thwe almost without ^^ht in the to

cattle went home <;ii all day from ;Cner, and she sat
that she sat most o?(he^«® so weak^I^ "’orning till the

leaning against the r^f- '^th her eyes^ch f ‘^ousumption
rook and dozed, brSif ^’orLad
68 painfully. Her

face was as thin as a skeleton's, and the sweat stood out on her
bro%v and temples. That was how I always found her. I used
to come for a moment, and I too did not want to be seen. As
soon as I appeared, Marie would start, open her eyes and fall to
kissing my hands. I no longer tried to take them away, for it
was a happiness to her. All the while I sat with her she trembled
and wept. She did indeed try sometimes to speak, but it was
difficult to understand her. She seemed like a crazy creature in
terrible excitement and delight. Sometimes the cliildren came
with me. At such times tliey generally stood a little way off
and kept watch to protect us from anyone or anything, and that
was an extraordinary pleasure to them. When we went away,
Marie was again left alone with her eyes shut and her head
leaning against the rock, dreaming perhaps of something. One
morning she could no longer go out with the cows and remained
at home in her deserted cottage. The children heard of it at
once, and almost all of them went to ask after her that day.
She lay in bed, entirely alone. For two days she was tended
only by the children, who ran in to her by turns; but when the
news reached the village that JIarie was really dj'ing, the old
women went to sit with her and look after her. I think the
villagers had begun to pity Marie; anyway, they left off scolding
the children and preventing them from seeing her, as they had
done before. Marie was drowsy all the time, but her sleep was
broken — she coughed terribly. The old woman drove the
children away, .but they ran under the window sometimes only
for a moment, just to say: 'Bonjour, notre bonne Marie.’ And
as soon as she caught sight of them or heard them, she seemed
to revive and, regardless of the old woman, she would try to
raise herself on her elbow, nod to them and thank them. They
used to bring her dainties as before, but she scarcely ate any-
thing. I assure you that, thanks to them, she died almost
happy. Thanks to them', she forgot her bitter trouble; they
brought her, as it were, forgiveness, for up to the very end she
looked upon herself as a great sinner. They were like birds beat-
ing their \vings against her window and calling to her every
morning: “Nous t'aimons, Marie.' She died very soon. I had
expected her to last much longer. The day before her death I
went to her at sunset; I think she knew me, and I pressed her
hand for the last time. How wasted it was 1 And next morning
they came to me and said that Marie was dead. Then the
children could not be restrained. They decked her coffin with
flowers and put a wreath on her head. The pastor did no dis-

69

I don't Ske people ho is rig?t'

S3 - i

and lauphfpr satchels m^' .^ *’o'sy tronr^■* somelim

70 %'ng along.

the boys and girls running togetlier, at their laughter and their
tears (for many of them managed to fight, cry, make it up and
begin playing again on the way home from school), and then I
forgot all my 'mournful thoughts. Afterwards, for the last three
years, I couldn’t even understand how and why people are sad.
My whole life was centred on the children.

"I never reckoned on leaving the village, and it did not enter
my mind that I sliould one day come back here to Russia. I
thought I would always stay there. But I saw at last that
Schneider couldn’t go on keeping me; and then something turned
up, so important apparently that Schneider himself urged me
to go, and answered for me that I was coming. I shall see into
it and take advice. My life will perhaps be quite changed; but
that doesn't matter. What does matter is that my whole life
is already changed. I left a great deal there — too much. It’s
all gone. As I sat in the train, I thought: ‘Now I am going
among people. I know nothing, perhaps, but a new life has
begun for me.’ I determined to do my work resolutely and
honestly. I may find it dull and difficult among people. In
the first place, I resolved to be courteous and open with every-
one. ‘No one will expect more than that of me. Perhaps here,
too, they will look on me as a child; but no matter.’ Everyone
looks on me as an idiot, too, for some reason. I was so ill at
one time that I really was almost like an idiot. But can I be
an idiot now, when I am able to see for myself that people look
upon me as an idiot? As I come in, I think: ‘I see they look
upon me as an idiot, and yet I am sensible and they don’t guess
it.’ ... I often have that thought.

"It was only at Berlin, when I got some little letters which
they had already managed to write me, I realised how I loved
the children. It’s very painful getting the first letter ! How dis-
tressed they were seeing me off ! They'd been preparing for my
going for a month beforehand. ‘L6on s’en va, Leon s’en va
pour toujoursl’ We met every evening as before at tlie water-
fall and talked of our parting. Sometimes we were as merry as
before: only when we separated at night, they kissed and hugged
me warmly, which they had not done previously. Some of them
ran in secret to see me by themselves, simply to kiss and hug
me alone, not before all the otlrers. When I was setting off, they
all, the whole flock of them, went with me to the station. The
railway station was about a mile from our village. They tried
not to cry, but some of them could not control Qiemselves and
wailed aloud, especially the girls. We made haste so as not to

71

be late, but every now and then one of tlicm would nish out of
Oie crowd to throw his little arms round me and kiss me, and
would slop Uic whole procession simply for that. And although
we were in a hurry', we all stopped and waited for him to r^y
good-bye. When I’d taken my scat and the train had started,
they all shouted 'Hurrah 1 * and stood wailing there till tlie train
was out of sight. 1 gazed at them too. ... Do you know, when
I came in here and looked at your sweet faces — I notice people’s
faces very much now — and heard your first words, my heart felt
light for the first time since then, I thought then tlwt perhaps I
really was a lucky person. 1 know that one doesn’t often rncel
people whom one likes from the first, yet licre I’ve come straight
from the railway station and I meet you. I know very' well
that one’s ashamed to talk of one's feelings to evciy’one, but I
talk to j'ou without feeling ashamed. I am an unsociable person
and very likely I may not come to you again for a long time.
Don't take tliat as a slight. 1 don't say it because I don’t value
your friendship, and please don't think tliat I have taken oflcncc
at something. You asked me about your faces and what I
noticed in them. 1 shall be delighted* to tell you that. You
have a happy' face, Adelaida Ivanovna, the mo.st sympatheUe
of lire llircc. Besides your being very' good-looking, one feels
when one looks at you, ‘She has the face of a kind <-ister.' You
approach one simply and gaily', hut you arc quick to see into
the heart. That’s how your face strikes me. You, Alexandra
Ivanovna, have a fine and very sweet face too; but perhaps vou
have some secret trouble. Your heart is certainly of the kindest,
but you are not light-hearted. There's a peculiar something in
your face, such as we see in Holbein’s Madonna in Dresden.
Well, so much for your face. Am 1 good at guessing? You
took me to be so y'oursclvcs. But from your face, Lizaveta
Prokolyevna,” he turned suddenly to .Madame Epanchin, "from
your face 1 feel positively certain that you are a perfect child in
everything, every'thing, in good and bad alike, in spite of your
age. You arc not angry witli me for saying so? You know what
I think of children. And don’t think it’s from simplicity that
I have spoken so openly about your faces. Oh no, not at all!
Perhaps I have my own idea in doing it."

CHAPTER VII

W HEN Myshkin ceased speaking, tliey were all looking at
him gaily, even Aglaia, and particularly Lizaveta
Prokofyevna.

"Well, they have put you through your examination,” she
cried. “Well, young ladies, you thought you were going to
patronise him as a poor relation, but he scarcely deigns to accept
you, and only with the proviso that he won’t come often! It
makes us look silly, especially Ivan Fyodorovitch, and I am
glad of it. Bravo, prince 1 We were told to put you tlirough an
examination. And as for what you said about my face, it’s per-
fectly true; I am a child, and I know it. I knew that before
you told me; you put my own thoughts into words for me. I
believe your character's like mine exactly, like two drops of
water, and I am glad of it. Only you arc a man and I am a
woman and haven't been to Srvitzerland : teat's tee only
difference.”

"Don’t be in a huny, maman,” cried Aglaia. "The prince
admitted that he had a special motive in all he has confessed
and was not spealdng simply.”

"Yes, yes,” laughed the others.

"Don’t tease him, ray dears, he is shrewder maybe than all
the three of you together. You will see. But why do 3 'ou say
nothing about Aglaia, prince? Aglaia is waiting, and so am I.”
"I can’t say anything at once; I’ll speak later.”

"Why? I should have thought she couldn’t be overlooked.”
"Oh no, she couldn't. You are exceedingly beautiful, Aglaia
Ivanovna. You are so beautiful that one is afraid to look at
■you.”

"Is that all? What about her qualities? ” Madame Epanchin
persisted.

"It’s difficult to judge beauty; I am not ready yet. Beauty
is a riddle.”

"That’s as good as setting Aglaia a riddle,” said Adelaida.
"Guess it, Aglaia. But she is beautiful, prince?”

"Extremely,” answered the prince with warmth, looking
enthusiastically at Aglaia. "Almost as beautiful as Nastasya
Filippovna, though her face is quite different.”

All looked at one another in surprise.

"As who-o-o?” gasped Madame Epanchin. "As Nastas}^.
Filippovna? Where have you seen Nastasya Filippovna?
What Nastasya Fihppovna?"

73

“Gavril Ardalionovitch was showing her portrait to Ivan
Fyoclorovitch just now.”

“Whatl he brought Ivan Fyodorovitch her portrait?’

"To show it to him. Nastasya Filippovna had given
it to Gavril Ardalionovitch to-day, and he brought it to
show.”

"I want to see it!” Madame Epanchin cried eagerly, "Where
is the photograph? If it was given him, he must have got it,
and he must still be in the study. He always comes to work on
Wednesdays and never leaves before four. Call him at once.
No, I am not d 3 nng to see him. Do me a favour, dear prince.
Go to the study, take the photograph from him and bring it
here. Tell him we want to look at it, please."

"He is nice, but too simple,” said Adelaida, when tlic prince
had gone,

"Yes, somewhat too much so,” Alexandra agreed; "so that
it makes him a little absurd, in fact."

Neither of them seemed to be saying all she Uiought.

"He got out of it very well, though, over our faces," said
Aglaia. "He flattered us all, even mamma.”

"Don’t be witty, please,” cried her mother. "He did not
flatter me, though I was flattered.”

"You think he was sly?” asked Adelaida.

"I fancy he is not so simple.”

"Get along with you,” said her mother, getting angry. "To
my thinking you are more absurd than he is. He is simple, but
he’s got all his wts about him, in the most honourable sense, of
course. Exactly like me.”

"It was certainly a mistake to have spoken about the photo-
graph,” Myshkin reflected as he went to the study, feeling a
little conscience-stricken. "But perhaps it wais a good thing I
spoke of it. ..."

A strange, though still vague idea was beginning to take shape
in his mind.

Gavril Ardalionovitch was still sitting in the study absorbed
in his papers. It was clear he did not receive his salary from
the company for nothing. He was terribly disconcerted when
the prince asked him for the portrait and told him how tliey had
come to hear about it.

E-ech 1 What need had you to chatter about it? ” he cried in
an^ vexation. You know nothing about it. . . . Idiot!” he

muttered to himself.

I am sorry. I did it without thinking; it happened to come
74

up. I said that Aglaia was almost as handsome as Nastasya
Filippovna.”

Gan5'a begged him to tell him exactly what had happened.
Myshkin did so. Ganya looked at him sarcastically again.

"You’ve got Nastasya Filippovna on the brain . . he
muttered, but paused and sank into thought.

He was evidently upset. Myshkin reminded him of the
photograph.

"Listen, prince,” Ganya said suddenly, as though an idea
had struck him. "I want to ask a great favour of you . . . but
I realty don’t know.”

He broke oif, embarrassed. He seemed struggling with him-
self and trjdng to make up his mind. Myshkin waited in silence.
Ganya scanned him once more with intent and searching eyes.

"Prince,” he began again, "they are angry with me now . . .
in there . . . owing to a strange . . . and absurd incident, for
which I am not to blame. In fact, there's no need to go into it.
I think they are rather vexed with me in there, so that for a time
I don't rvant to go in without being invited. But there is some-
thing I absolutely must say to Aglaia Ivanovna. I have written
a few words, on the chance” — he held a tiny folded note in his
band — "and I don’t know how to give it to her. Won't you
take it for me and give it to her at once, but to Aglaia Ivanovna
alone, so that no one sees it? You understand? It’s no very
terrible secret, nothing of that sort . . . but . . . Will you
do it?"

"I don’t quite like doing it,” answered Myshkin.

"Oh, prince, it’s horribly important for me!” Ganya began
entreating liim. "She will perhaps answer. . . . BeUeve me,
it’s only at the last extremity, at the last extremity that I could
have recourse to . . . By whom else could I send it? It’s very
important . . . dreadfully important. . . ."

Ganya was terribly afraid toat Myshkin would not consent,
and looked in his eyes with cringing entreaty.

"Very well, I'll give it her.”

"Only so that no one sees it,” Ganya besought him, delighted.
"And another thing, I can rely on your word of honour, of
course, prince?”

"I won't show it to anyone,” said Myshkin.

"The note is not sealed, but ...” Ganya was beginning in
his anxiety, but he broke off in confusion.

"Oh, I won't read it,” answered Myshkin quite simply. He
took tlie photograph and went out of fee study.

75

his head.

peAaps." i • • . and I wiU break it off.

the other. ® toeing irom one comer of the room to

pondGrcf^ ac < *'

impressed him unpieasaniiv ^The “P®" fi™

£2 ?/e'“ « mZJf o' “ into from

°{tAvo rooms from the dnn7°°‘ "^as the

as though recollecting somethin^ M f stopped short

wndow nearer to the hvE 3^^" ^nt to the.

Nastasya Filippovna. ® ^ at the portrait of

before!Sen^iiat fac?^?h"°^^^"® struck him

gredy left him. andnlTbe ^ had

ordioan. f?„m?“b.™'^ota=fc by the S ti‘

a look of unbounded Sde^d else in it. ThSe

gazed af if f glowmg eyes—a Jrf ^ P^Je face, almost

■’ rfS L?'"""™'” “ £e™S

-'SsCd sl?","’^ ”■>"■ ® "*■"

oSSin ’■fc™ « tte sh^feesf *'«"EeIy at

^th Ganya and tn u°-^ having PQt miv I ® seemed
at one aniS°“khnn calmly this affair

seemed to co^ jo^^^^^feesec^S They looked

a^y. “to her face; ^en something^ ironical

‘“-oHpaaehia^,,^^^^

ments in silence, mth a

shade of nonchalance, at the photograph of Nastasya Filippovna,
which she held affectedly at arm’s IcngUi.

"Yes, good-looking," she pronounced at last, "very good-
looking indeed. I've seen her twice, only at a distance. That's
tire sort of beauty you appredate, then?" she suddenly said to
Jlyshkin.

"Yes, it is . . ." answered Myshkin, with some effort.

"You mean, just that sort of beauty?"

"Just that sort."

"Why?"

"In tliat face . . . tlierc is so much suffering,” answered
Myshkin, as it were involuntarily speaking to himself, not in
answer to her question.

"But perhaps you are talking nonsense," Madame Epancliin
concluded, and with a haughty gesture she flung tfie photograph
down on the table.

Alexandra took it. Adelaida went up to her and theyjooked
at it together. At that moment Aglaia came back into the
drawing-room.

"What power 1" Adelaida cried suddenly, looking eagerly
over her sister's shoulder at the portrait.

"Where? What power?" her mother asked sharply.

"Such beauty is power,” said Adelaida w'armly. "With
beauty like that one might turn the w’orld upside down."

She walked thoughtfully away to her easel. Aglaia only
glanced cursorily at the portrait, screwed up her eyes, pouted,
walked away and sat down clasping her hands.

Madame Epanchin rang the bell.

"Call Gavril Ardalionovitch here; he is in the study,” she told
the servant who answered it.

"Maman!” cried Alexandra significantly.

"I want to say a few words to him — ^that's enough!” her
mother snapped out, cutting short her protest. She was evidently
irritated. "We have nothing but secrets here, prince, you see —
nothing but secrets. It has to be so, it's a sort of etiquette; it’s
stupid. And in a matter wliich above everything needs frank-
ness, openness and straightforwardness. 'There are marriages
being arranged. I don't like these marriages. . . .”

"Maman, what are you saying? ” Alexandra again made haste
to check her.

"Wliat is it, dear daughter? Do you like it yourself? As for
the prince’s hearing it, we are friends. He and I are, anyway.
God seeks men, good ones of course, but He does not want the

77

P=rh4liTS=^S"5,f„f W ^ «n c'Sfo “■'

3Srrfr-=^^^

see how you hvo Vr ®"ough have ’been ® ”° '^^ed to go

sense andToiS jalk i°°} ‘=°^t\hl) S shall

fine gentleman, most^H 3'ou L y®"''

exclaimed, seein/l^'^^*'^ -Alexandra
matrimonial alliance "jJre

Ganya’s bow, ^vithout a?i?°'^ day I" ^hc cniri ^ another
templating marriage?'' sit dowif '.V‘^®P°nse to

Marriage? How? nn, ' ‘^‘^n-

Ardalionovitch, dunifif marriape?"
certed. nmbfounded. j{„ ® muttered Gavril

“Are you getting marr' r? t tenibly discon-

ArdaUonovitch Led,

and

I -^haU "n?" th^fm confusion and

safd "En„ .

, I think so. fnaman " ‘°-‘^ay-Wednes-

..B®y never know the Adelaida

"Sp !r^"‘y-seventh ” ''^t day of thp

•the twenhi-cn,, „ ' .answereri n — •' the month is it?”

hye,

“TV. «now thp 7, Adelaida

"S'e SSE1'™5’” aSaS? ”■

- I 7'™“'

to dress and go out. Take your photograph. Give my kind
regards to your unhappy mother. Good-bye for tlje present,
dear prince. Come and see us often. I am going to see old
Princess Byelokonsky on purpose to tell her about you. And
listen, my dear, I believe it’s simply for my sake God has
brought you to Petersburg from Switzerland. Perhaps you may
have other work to do, but it was chief!}' for my sake. That was
just God’s design. Good-bye, dears. Alexandra, come to my
room, my dear.”

Madame Epanchin went out. Ganya, crestfallen, confused,
angry, picked up the pliotograph from the table and turned with
a wiy smile to Myshkin.

‘‘Prince, 1 am just going home. If you've not changed your
mind about boarding with us, ’I will take you, for you don’t
even know the address.”

‘‘Stay a little, prince,” said Aglaia, suddenly getting up from
her chair. "You must write in my album. Papa said you had a
fine handsvriting. I’ll bring it yoii directly.”

And she went out.

"Good-bye for the present, prince, I am going too,” said
Adelaida.

She pressed Myshkin's hand warmly, smiling kindly and
cordially to him, and went away. She did not look at Ganya.

"That was your doing,” snarled Ganya, falling upon
Myshkin as soon as everyone had gone. "You’ve been babbling
to them of my getting marriedl” he muttered in a rapid whisper,
with a furious face and an angry gleam in his eyes. "You are a
shameless chatterbox 1 ”

"I assure you, you are mistaken,” Myshkin answered calmly
and politely. "I didn’t even know you were going to be
married.”

"You heard Ivan Fyodorovitch say this morning that every-
thing would be settled to-night at Nastasya Filippovna’s. You
repeated it. You are lying! From whom could they have found
out? Damn it all, who could have told them except j'ou? Didn’t
the old woman hint it to me?”

"You must know best who told them, if you really think they
hinted at it. I haven’t said a word about it."

"Did you give the note? An answer?” Ganya interrupted,
with feverish impatience. ^

But at that very moment Aglaia came back and Mvsak^”
hadn’t time to answer.

"Here, prince,” she said, laying the album on the -

79

one too. something Here i-;

Aglaia was standiL on up to thSrii

si ™S”,tcSr^i i- -a...

uttered thoi wor^^^" Gany^-s face tn both

looked at him for^ w'^^P^^bon without

wonder \wth which she '^'Ib exacUv^th^^^^'

W'onder, this sumric looked on the nn'r. ^ same caln

i? SmvS S?'" ?!■« 'vJcoSl.t!.'! S'* f ”

loss
to

mmmmm

8o ' Only that^^^

Ok,
a

ly

that! Nothiitg more, nothing! 7 dare not dream of hope, for I
am not worthy of it. But ^icr a word from you I can accept
my poverty again; I shall joyfully endure my hopeless lot. I
shall face the struggle; I shall be glad of it; 1 shall rise up again
with renewed strength.

Send me that word of sympathy (only sympathy, I swear)!
Do not he angry with the audacity of a desperate and drowning
man for making a last effort to save himself from perdition.

"This man assures me," said Aglaia abruptly, when Myshkin
had finished reading it, "that the words 'break it all off’ will
not compromise me and will bind me to nothing, and gives me a
written guarantee of it, as 3 fOu see, in this note. Observe how
naively he hastened to underline certain words, and how coarsely
his secret thought shows through it. Yet he knows that if he
broke it all off of himself, without a word from me, without
even speaking of it to me, without expecting an}7thing from me,
I should have felt differently to him and perhaps might have
become his friend. He knows that for a fact. But he has a
dirty soul. He knows it, but can't bring himself to it; he knows
it, but still he asks for a guarantee. He can’t act on faith. He
wants me to give him hope of my hand, to make up for the
hundred thousand. As for my words in the past of which he
speaks in his note, and which he says have lighted up his life,
it’s simply an insolent lie. I merely pitied him once. But he
is insolent and shameless. He at once conceived a notion that
hope was possible for him. I saw it at once. Since then he has
begun trying to catch me; he is trying to catch me even now.
But enough. Take the note and give it back to him as soon as
3 'ou are out of the house; not before, of course."

"And what answer am I to give him?"

"Nothing, of course. That’s the best answer. So you are
going to live in his house?"

"Ivan Fyodorovitcli himself advised me to this morning,”
said Myshkin.

"Then be on your guard with him, I warn you. He won't
forgive you for taking him back his note."

Aglaia pressed Myslokin’s hand lightly and walked away. Her
face was grave and frowning. She did not even smile when she
bowed to him at parting.

"I am just coming; I'll only get my bundle,” said IMyslikin
to Ganya, "and we will go.”

8i

tetah'^niXtril "‘I 'rill.

bundle in Ids hand. ““ ''™l. Myshkin will,™

t^vou? Did'^ pouncing upon

poS"’ •"<’ «u 'rilh»J“a'=:^'.''!!'^“'"';

give i, ,0 her?

see how it was she didn’t imderd-hn i • ‘^'^■^^^’nalion ! . r

a- -i

’^'■^ ''gig'ri

“To read ifJv shouted almosf back.”

And In ‘‘ read it?” ^ top of his voice.

""if

And she cave if vn„ . ° j •

aslild W' f

Ganya was silent fn- • ^

" "'CSa'Iff" ;"“"■ ■»"'W eirort.

JsSi‘Sr' ™ >■“ •» «■ Vou a.

::S:-„?”tf ' ™ne il'sTeSS’™ “".rihing at

c» j?Sc“L”'L?'’d. *™ it I ■■

And Ganya ^ice, Ob. damn if!”
"■fe“4hed ; '“■ • ®»losh,

iSlfb^lnSf ^td‘2^?- y.u wane

>-«P«o.heeh.„‘3,»7E,V„'iS

that, you wouldn’t lose by abandoning your hopes of a hundred
thousand. That if you had done so without bargaining vdth
her and had broken it off without asking for a guarantee from
her beforehand, she would perhaps have become your friend. I
believe that’s aU. Oh, something more. When I asked, after
I’d taken the letter, what was the answer, she said tliat no
answer was the best answer. I think that was it. You must
excuse me if I’ve forgotten her exact words and only repeat it
as I understood it."

Ganya was overcome by intense anger and his fury burst out
without restraint.

"Ah, so tlrat’s itl” he snarled. "So my notes are thrown out
of the window 1 Ah, she won't make bargains — ^then I will!
And we shall see ! I have other things to M back upon. , . .
We shall see! I’ll make her smart for it!"

His face was pale and distorted; he foamed at the mouth;
he shook his fist. So they walked for some steps. He behaved
exactly as though he were alone in his room and made no
attempt to keep up appearances before Mj'shkin, as though he
looked upon him as absolutely of no consequence. But suddenly
he reflected and pulled himself up.

"But how is it," he said suddenly, addressing Myshkin,
"how is it you" — ("an idiot,” he added to himself) — "are sud-
denly trusted with such confidence after two hours’ acquaintance-
ship? How is it?”

Envy was all that was granted to complete his suffering, and
it suddenly stung him to the heart.

"That I can’t explain," answered Myshkin.

Ganya looked wrathfuUy at him.

"Was it to make you a present of her confidence that she
called you into the dining-room? She was going to give you
something."

"That’s just how I understand it."

"But, damn it all, why! What have you done? How have
you won their hearts? Listen." He was violently agitated and
in a terrible ferment; all his ideas seemed hopelessly scattered.
"Listen. Can’t you remember what you’ve been talking about
— eveiy word from the beginning, and give some sort of account
of it? Don’t you remember noticing anything?"

"Certainly I can,” answered Myshkin. "At the beginm’ng
when I first went in and made their acquaintance, we began
talking about Switzerland.”

"Confomid Switzerland!”

83

"Then we talked of capital punisluncnt."

"Capital punishment?"

"Yes, something suggested it. . . . Then I told him how
I spent three years out there, and tlic story of a poor village
girl- • • •’*

“Damn the poor village girl! What else?’

Ganva was raging with impatience.

"Then how Schneider told me liis opinion of my diameter,
and how he forced me to . .

"Hang Schneider and damn his opinion of you ! What else?”
"Then somctliing led up to ray speaking of faces, or rather of
the expression of faces, and I said that Aglaia Ivanovna was
almost as beautiful as Nastasya Filippovna, And tliat was how
I came to mention tlie portrait. , .

"But you didn't repeat — ^you didn’t repeat what you heard
this morning in the study? You didn't? You didn't?”

"I tell you again I did not.”

"How the devil then . . . Bah! Did Aglaia show the note
to the old lady?” ,

"I can assure you positively tliat she did not do tliat. I was
there all the while, and she hadn’t the time to.”

"But perhaps you missed something. . . . Oh. d-damned
idiot!” he exclaimed, completely beside himself. "He can't
even tell anything properly.”

Ganya, liaving once begun to be abusive and meeting no
resistance, lost all restraint, as is always the case with certain
sorts of people. A little more and he would have begun to spit,
he was so furious. But his fuiy made him blind, or he would
have understood long ago that this "idiot”, whom he was treat-
ing so rudely, was sometimes ratlier quick and subtle in under-
standing and could give an extremely satisfactory account of
things. But somctliing ime.'^cted happened all at once.

"I must tell you, Gavril Ardalionovitch,” Myshkin said
suddenly, "that I was once so ill that I really was almost an
idiot; but I’ve got over tliat long ago, and so I rather dislike it
when people call me an idiot to my face. Though I can excuse it
in you in consideration of your ill-luck, but in your vexation
you've been abusive to me twice already. I don't like that at
all, especially so suddenly at first acquaintance; and so, as we
are ]ust at the cross-roads, hadn’t we better part? You go to
the right to your home, and I go to the left. I’ve got twenty-
nve roubles, and I shall be sure to find some lodging-hou=e.”
Ganya was dreadfully disconcerted, and even flushed with

84

shame at meeting with such an unexpected rebuff.

"Excuse me, prince," he cried ^varmly, dropping his offen-
sive tone for one of extreme politeness. "For mercy’s sake,
forgive me! You see what trouble I’m in. You know scarcely
anytliing of it as yet, but if you knew all, I am sure you would
feel there was some excuse for me. Though, of course, it is
inexcusable. ...”

"Oh, I don’t need so muclx apology,” Myshkin hastened to
answer. "I understand that it’s very horrid for you and that’s
why you are rude. Well, let’s go to your house; I’ll come xvith
pleasure.”

"No, I can’t let him go like that now,” Ganya was thinking
to Wmself, looking resentfully at Myshkin on the way. "The
rogue got it all out of me, and then removed his mask. . . .
There’s something behind it. But we shall see! Everything will
be decided — everything! To-day!”

They were by now standing opposite the house.

CHAPTER VIII

G ANYA’S flat was on the third storey, on a very clean, light,
spacious staircase, and consisted of six or seven rooms, big
and little. Though the flat was ordinary enough, it seemed some-
what beyond the means of a clerk with a family, even with an
income of two thousand roubles a year. But it had been taken
by Ganya and his family not more tlian two months before with
a view to taking boarders, to the intense annoyance of Ganya
himself, to satisfy the urgent desires of his mother and sister,
who were anxious to be of use and to increase the family income
a little. Ganya scowled and called taking boarders degrading.
It made him feel asliamcd in the society where he was accus-
tomed to appear as a somewhat brilliant young man with a
future before him. All such concessions to the inevitable and
all the cramped conditions of his life were a deep inner wound.
For some time past he had become extremely and quite dispro-
portionately irritable over every trifle, and if he still consented
to submit and to put up with it for a time, it was only because
he was resolved to change it all in the immediate future. But
that very change, that very way of escape on which he had
determined, involved a formidable difflculty — a difficulty the
solution of which threatened to be more troublesome and
harassing than all that had gone before.

85

The flat was divided by a Jjassage, into which Uicy stepped at
once on entering. On one side of the passage were tlie tlircc
rooms which were intended for "specially recommended"
boarders. On Uie same side of (lie passage, at the farthest end,
next to the kitchen, was a fourth room, smaller than the rest,
which was occupied by the father of the family, the retired
General Ivolgin, He slept on a wide sofa, and was obliged to
go in and out of the flat through the kitciicn and by the back
staircase. Ganya’s broUicr, Kolj'a, a schoolboy of thirteen,
shared the same room. He too had to be packed away in it, to
do his lessons there, to sleep in ragged sheets on another sofa,
very old, short and narrow, and above all to wait on his father
and to keep an eye on him, which was becoming more and more
necessary. Myshkin was given the middle one of the three
rooms; the first on the right was occupied by Fcrdyshtchenko,
and the one on the left was empty. But Ganya led Myshkin first
into the otlier half of the flat, which consisted of a dining-room,
of a drawing-room which was a drawing-room only in llic morn-
ing, beng transformed later in tlic day into Ganya’s study and
bedroom; and of a tliird room, very small and always shut up,
where the mother and daughter slept. It was a tight fit, in fact,
in the flat, Ganya could only grind his teeth and say notliing.
Though he ivas and wished to be respectful to his mother, it
could be seen from the first minute that he was a great despot
in his family,

Nina Alexandrovna was not alone in the drawing-room. Her
daughter was with her, and both ladies were busy with some
knitting while talking to a visitor, Ivan Petrovitch Ptits)m.
Nina Alexandrovna looked about fifty, with a thin and sunken
face and dark rings under her eyes. She looked in delicate
health and somewhat melancholy, but her face and expression
were rather pleasing. At the first word one could see that she
was of an earnest disposition and had genuine dignity. In 'spite
of her melancholy air one felt that she had firmness and even
determination. She was very modestly dressed in some dark
colour in an elderly style, but her manner, her conversation, all
her ways betrayed that she was a woman who had <=een better
days.

Varvara Ardalionovna was a girl of twenty-three, of middle
height, rather thin. Her face, though not very beautiful, pos-
sessed &e secret of charm without beauty and was extra-
ordinanly attractive. She was very like her mother and was
dressed in almost the same way, showing absolutely no desire to

86

be smart. Her pey c}'cs might have been at times very merry
and caressing, if they had not as a rule looked grave and
thoughtful; too much so, especially of late. Her face too showed
fmnness and decision; in fact it suggested an even more vigorous
and enterprising determination tlian her mother’s. Var\'ara
Ardalionovna was rather hot-tempered, and her brother was
sometimes positively afraid of her temper. The visitor wth
them now, Ivan Pctrovitch Ptitsyn, was a little afraid of her
too. He was a young man, not )'ct thirty, modestly but elegantly
dressed, with a pleasant but rather too solemn manner. His
dark brown beard showed that he was not in the government
service. He could talk cleverly and well, but was more often
silent. He made a pleasant impression on tlic whole. He was
obviously attracted by Varvara Ardalionovna and did not con-
ceal his feelings. She treated him in a friendly way, but put
off answering certain questions, and did not like them. But
Ptitsyn was far from losing courage. Nina Alexandrovna was
cordial to Iiim and had of late begun to confide in him. It was
known, however, that he was ttying to make his fortune by
lending money at Irigh interest on more or less good security. He
was a great friend of Ganya’s.

Ganya greeted Iris mother very frigidly, did not greet his sister
at all, and after abruptly introducing Myshkin and giving a
minute account of him, he at once drew Ptitsyn out of the room.
Nina Alexandrovna said a few friendly words to Myslikin and
told Kolya, who peeped in at the door, to conduct him to the
middle room. Kolya was a boy with a merry and rather
pleasant face and a confiding and simple manner.

“Wliere is your luggage?" he asked Myshkin, as they went
into the room.

"I have a bundle. I left it in the passage.”

"I’ll bring it you directly. We have only the cook and
Matryona, so I help too. Varya looks after everything and gets
cross. Ganya says you’ve come from Switzerland to-day.”

"Yes."

"Is it nice in Switzerland?"

"Very.”

"Mountains?”

"Yes.”

"I’ll bring you your bundles directly.”

Varvara Ardalionovna came in.

"Matryona will make your bed directly. Have you a
trunk?"

87

"No, a bundle

'’“So's „0 bMdIe ,h '° “■ "«

, ’’S™ «„ ,« J.„„ ^ '“ "’”» ‘“«y. I ™ bot

i >’““ -« -

as jou prefer. Come^KoK^" “s of in°vo!!‘^"'‘

Let us go, j,ou deteiS:^ in the xnv»’'°"'^
they went out character." ^•

an homep *'P°" Ganya.

oecause them'o J nor therr ^ has lu^t me-.,,?
thoujhi "'*R*g?'‘'»i»« raoS.'L;?'!' .'•-"•ll Cn/ta?

„ l»««re you s? 'OMO *, ”"' it «lt

, ^cir relates Gam^ you tiink," said

31 -

bo2"„^t'MfeoSJ'’Go^^y'‘”°”®'' "’““S'’

88 ““ .“Mtai aohraod

to say it. He had found fault with the room to cover his
embarrassment.

_ soon as M3rshkin had washed and made himself a little
tidier, the door opened again and another person looked in. This
was a gentleman about thirty, tall and broad, with a huge curly
red head. His face was red and fleshy, his lips were thick, his
nose was broad and flat. He had H^e ironical eyes lost in
fat, that looked as if they were alwa5fs winking. The whole
countenance produced an impression of insolence. He was
rather dirtily dressed.

He first opened the door only far enough to poke his head in.
The head looked about the room for five seconds, then the door
began slowly opening and the whole person came into view in
the doorway. Yet the visitor did not come in, but, screwing up
his eyes, still stared at Mj'shkin from the doorway. At last he
closed the door behind him, came nearer, sat down on a chair,
took Myshkin's hand, and made him sit on the sofa near him.

"Ferdyshtchenko,” he said, looking intently and inquiringly
at Myshkin.

"What of it?" answered Myshkin, almost laughing.

"A boarder,” said Ferdyshtchenko, looking at him as before,

"Do you want to make my acquaintance? ”

"E-ech,’' said the visitor, sighing and ruffling up his hair, and
he began staring in the opposite comer. "Have you money?"
he asked, turning suddenly to Myshkin.

"A little.”

"How much?”

"Twenty-five roubles.”

"Show me.”

Myshkin took back his note. Ferdyshtchenko got up from his
pocket and handed it to Ferdyshtchenko, who unfolded it,
looked at it, turned it over, then held it to the light.

"That’s rather strange,” he said, seeming to reflect. "YTiy do
they turn mud colour? These twenty-five-rouble notes often
turn an awful colour, while others fade. Take it.”

Myshkin took the twentv-five-rouble note out of his waistcoat
chair.

"I’ve come in to warn you, in the first place, not to lend me
money, for I shall be sure to ask jmu to.”

"Very well.”

"Do you mean to pay here?”

"Yes.”

"Well, I don’t. Thanks. I’m the next door on the right.

89

Did you notice it? Try not to come and see me too often; I
shall come and see you, you needn’t be afraid. Have you seen
the general?”

“No.”

"Nor heard him either?"

"Of course not.”

"Well, you’ll see him and hear him. What’s more, he tries to
borrow even of me. Avis au lecteur. Good-bye, Can one exist
with such a name as Ferdyshtchenko? Eh? ”

“Why not?”

“Good-bye.”

And he went to the door. Myshkin learnt later that this
gentleman felt it incumbent upon him to amaze everyone by
his originality and liveliness, but never succeeded in doing so.
Some people he impressed unfavourably, which was a real
mortification to him. Yet he did not relinquish his efforts. At
the door he succeeded in retrieving his position, so to speak, by
stumbling against a gentleman who was coming in. Letting this
fresh visitor, who was a stranger to Myshkin, into the room, he
winked wamingly several times behind his back, and so made a
fairly effective exit.

The other gentleman was a tall and corpulent man of fifty-five
or more, with a fleshy, bloated, purple-red face, set off by thick
grey whiskers and moustache. He had large, rather prominent
eyes. His appearance would have been rather impressive if it
had not been for something neglected, slovenly, even unclean
about him. He was wearing shabby indoor clothes, an old
frock-coat with elbows almost in holes and dirty linen. At close
quarters he smelt a little of vodka, but his manner was impres-
sive and rather studied. He betrayed a jealous desire to display
his dignity.

The gentleman approached Myshkin deliberately, with an
affable smile. He took his hand silently and, holding it for some
time in his, looked into Myshkin’s face as though recognising
familiar features.

"It’s hel He!” he pronormced softly but solemnly. “His
living picture 1 I heard them utter a dear and familiar name
and it brought back a oast that is gone for ever. . Prince
Myshkin?” '

"Yes.”

"General Ivolgin, retired from service and unfortunate Your
name and your father’s, may I venture to ask?”

“Lyov Nikolayevitch.”

90

"Yes, yes! Son of my friend, the companion of my child-
hood, I may say, Nikolay Petrovitch?”

"My father’s name was Nikolay Lvovitch.”

"Lvovitch,” the general corrected himself, but without haste
and with complete assurance, as though he had not in the least
forgotten it, but had uttered the wrong name by accident. He
sat down, and taking Myshkin’s hand he too made him sit down
beside him. "1 used to carry you in my arms."

"Is it possible?" said Myshkin. "My fatlier died twenty
years ago.”

"Yes, it's twenty years — twenty years and three months. We
were at school together; I \vent strmght into the army."

"My father was in the army too: sub-lieutenant in the
Vassilkovsky regiment."

"In the Byelomirsky. He was transferred to the Byelomirsky
just before his deatli. I was at his bedside and blessed him for
eternity. Your mother . , .’’

The general paused, as though anested by painful memory.

"Yes, she died six months later from a chill," said Myshkin,

"It was not a chiU — ^not a chill. You may trust an old man's
words. I was there; I buried her too. It was grief at the loss
of her husband; not a chill. Yes, I remember the princess too.
Ah, youth 1 It was for her sake that the prince and I, friends
from childhood, were on the point of becoming each other’s
murderers."

Myshkin began to listen ivith a certain sceptidsm.

"I was passionately in love with your mother when she was
betrothed — betrothed to my friend. The prince observed it and
it was a blow to him. He came to me early in the morning,
before seven o'clock, and waked me up. I dressed in amaze-
ment. There was silence on both sides; I understood it aU. He
pulled two pistols out of his pocket. Across a handkerchief,
%vithout %vitnesses. What need of witnesses when within five
minutes we should have sent each other into eternity? We
loaded, stretched the handkerchief, aimed the pistols at each
other’s hearts and gazed in each other’s face. Suddenly tears
gushed from the eyes of both; our hands trembled. Of both — of
both at once. Then naturally followed embraces and a conflict
in mutual generosity. The prince cried: 'She is yours.’ I cried:
‘No, yours.' In fact ... in fact . . . you’ve come to live
with us?” '

"Yes, for a little time perhaps," said Myshkin, seeming to
hesitate.

91

■"S in at thfdoor™ *° P™'e." cned Kolya, look-

"6“ ‘“'I

a tragic catastrophe but ^ have suffered, through

■nmy houstl- "“‘'■a- And tnaanwhile thar/is a toS

bl'T ?"■ ap"»‘'3''

brough^LtT'^^f Tii?'5nST^°“h^

speak to now- To ™“st walk over ma r ^ <^own

h^d; since vox'll indee? T ^

you are tho ^ n hving w'th us ^ ^0“ before-

'tS2 ^-u "’y «en™ I hSL l ^"^'way. But

room?" be so good as tn ^.Sht to hope . . .'-'

and called S herself ap^’e'Sre^in Se

Onlv fann, ■ , t^ycareo m the doorway

used to dandlJt2 general "it-

Nina AleS^Sovna^T “ T arms ! " ^’ that I

‘P' e»««l nnd

room and sat Hn ^ ^ they had ^ f '^rd.; Myshkin

undertone ai5d v^^ ^'uxand2^maSd2® dra^g-

general himself ?‘.^y telling MvthhL^^

« spoS® 'PP'"™" “P

over her knitting “d, with evldo ^ ^ AJexandrovna

^“t was still in fxc^feS ^bst^ ed^S^'^^’

^o son of my friend^ ™ annoyance,

•'% d^f Ale.xan-

'vas still at ^ you must remember ’^P

• ts that your father?"

92

"Yes. I don’t think It ^vas at he ..j

EUsavetgrad/’ Myshkin obsewed tinndlj to g
%Yas told so by Pavhshtchev. _„j-j “He was transferred

‘At SASrJtAA/EctrsoUcn, U.oug.he,™s

an excellent man.’ 4nn? "

“Did you know on tlie spot. I blessed him

"He was a rare man, but i was uu

on his death-bed.’’ awaiting trial,” Myshkin

to « o„. *.

he was accused of. He died private Kolpakov, and

"Oh, that was about the case i acquitted.

“■«arsA'“

'"‘^^Itoold think sol" «« the E-rf-JActoTbroS^?
up without coming to a decisnm. ^ Larionov, the com-
A mi'sterious case, one pnnee was appointed for a

mander of the '^The pnvate Kolpakov committcd

time to take his duty. Good. _JLrade and spent it on dnnk.

a theft-stole hoot-leather from a comra^d^^^^^ the serpan

Good, The pnnee— m blowing-up and threaten^

and the corporal-gave Kolpakbv went to the

to have him flogged. V g ^ quarter of an hop

barracks, Hy dovip on “ 30 unexpected,, it was quite

afterwards. Excellent. But it ^^yried. The pnnee sported
incredible. Anyivay, ^?K'name was removed from, the liste.
the matter and KMpako\ s Mm months

-matr ’ ^cle^MysVin! gde

"It’s not so, ’looking at him almost wth

addressing him sudpnly and A

Q*^

fh ^K buried six mSS befot^l Koipakov who
fte b^tag of drums.

^^ble 1 admit, but ..." ™“sual mddent, almost in-

-*n.. z a^ „«a,-„,y ,

^ The soup will be cold ae^ ..^^ological indde^ . ”

“« “Hid™.'’ ■” *«”“ o' ^

■■Ea°t h"**^ Sd'dito? Alexandrovitch

i' S “O'* i yoar^aC^'^f/™? ‘o MjaS.'

perhaS^/^«"' y°>^ ^now. AH

for it OriA than those who are nci '>11 * P^'^^b'arities, some

ever aonlipc favour I wd]] act ^°obed down upon

already^paid mp°“n?^ Payment, tell l^^°nl' husband

AlexanVSchSli?' S®'’ 3 ?’ .•'“'Yoo''*

to avoid taken off your hfn^u'^i. Ardahon

VaSa ^®®®“nts. Wh. <“ y®“ ^pJy

stoed and °f Nasta^a FihDT,r^°“^z®P®®^'4 handed

dh®ay and S fi Alexandrova

“ o ' 0 ” voice,

portrait j-^be announce^her ^bout

•■Voa'torsV '” '*°’’ “ •” You°SinStf
“ “■«&£wStrd'S.o "O-^ '00 d.. «

»ne). have you (that was wfav T^T^g him suddenly,

only arriveSmm Ibe]?"l oome to

Myshkin / to-Sy."^"^®'^® he told me you’d

nof account of himself j •

“ tf, leaving out the

account
94

greater part. Nina Alexandrovxia and Vaiya listened.

_ "I ^ not trying to find out anything about Gavril Ardaliono-
vitch in questioning you>” observed Nina Alexandrovna. “You
must maJre no mistake on that score. If there is an5dhing
he can’t tell me about liimsclf, I don't want to learn it
without his knowledge, I ask you, because just now when
you'd gone out, Ganya answered, when I asked him about you:
‘He knows everything; jmu needn’t stand on ceremony with
him,’ \\Tiat docs that mean? That is, I should like to know to
what extent . . .’’

Ganya and Ptitsyn suddenly came in. Nina Alexandrovna
instantly ceased speaking. Myshkin remained sitting beside
her, while Varya moved away. Nastasya Filippovna's photo-
graph was left lying in the most conspicuous place on Nina
Alexandrovna’s work-table, just in front of her. Ganya
saw it and frowned. He picked it up ivith an air of annoy-
ance and flung it on his ivriting-table at the other end of the
room.

“Is it to-day, Ganym?” his mother asked suddenly.

“Is what — to-day?” Ganj'a was startled, and all at once he
flew at Jlyshkin. ‘ ‘Ah, I understand ! Your doing again ! It
seems to be a regular disease in you. Can’t you keep quiet?
But let me tell you, your excellency . . .’’

"It's my fault, Ganya, no one clse’s,’’ interposed Ptitsyn.

Ganya looked at hiin inquiringly.

"It’s better so, Ganya, especially as on one side the affair is
settled,” muttered Ptitsym; and moving away, he sat down at
the table, and taking out of his pocket a piece of paper covered
with writing in pencil, he began looking at if intently.

Ganya stood sullenly, in uneasy expectation of a family scene.
It did not even occur to him to apologise to Myshkin.

“If everything is settled, then Ivan Petrovitch is certainly
right,’’ observed Nina Alexandrovna. “Don’t scowl, please,
Ganya, and don’t be angry. I am not going to ask you any-
thing you don’t care to tell me of yourself, and I assure you I
am completely resigned. Please don’t be uneasy.”

She went on rvith her work as she said this and seemed to be
really calm. Ganya was su^rised, but was prudently silent,
looking at his mother and waiting for her to say something more
definite. He had suffered too much from domestic quarrels
already. Nina Alexandrovna noticed this prudence, and added
with a bitter smile:

“You are still doubtful and do not believe me. Don’t be

05

"Ah VanV ■ • . *■ the same from

r">»S“,‘'fe- 7 ='■» “sr=^ »

f w of it, „d

consent and h7r '^“‘^stion onlv^Hm® ® ^ 'viU

."Ididn'tS'^°“^^an?;'

'^?note"nntenT‘^^'^^

-7a ~

/ou are carripH o, ' un-

2*?ain. And that’c Vi niother anri
;ter with us. ^^^jnsand^tl.*^ control yourself

•Gd anri r-.^ ^ said thnf ^^CH £?Gfc Imf-fiiT*

u. Such conversation, quickly touched the sore spot in

h &.nj -h, toe ho^ shah go out

Of it, and I too shall keep my worf^ *'And it’Vout of obstinacy
"Out of obstinacy ! Do^ snort at met I don t

that you won t be marned You can carry out

care a damn for it, Varvara Ardatono^^^ Y„u
your plan at once, 7°“ j ^ at last, prince, have you.
have made up your mmd t place.

he cried nitch^of irritation when a inan

Ganya’s voice betrayed ptcb to it with-

almost revels in his own enjoyment, regardless of

out restraint and at the door to answer^

consequences. Myshkin , exasperated face that another

insult, but seeing f^m Ganya^^xa^P ^

word would be too inuch f « their voices in the

silence. A few minuses had become even noisier

drawing-room that me co

and more unreserved in his abse^c . to his

He crossed the <hnmg<o

rooin. As lie passed the fro to ring the bell. B

one outside making t®'P"^^„y^^g\vith the beU, it oMy
something seemed to have g j^jygfkin unbolted the door,
shook without making a “Sent, startled. Nastasya

opened it, and stepped hack m^ ^nee fro“ her

Filippovna stood before • annoyance in her eyes w
photograph. There was a gl^am of « ^ ^^t

she saw him. She lyalke^ flinging o2 her fur coat .

of her way, and said angnl} , ^ P _ might at l^ast

iu'SH Scrpe'o“r=‘kuSX h.'i acoppcd u.y eoac, toe

cvas indeed

Myshkin was about to say ^at^which he had picked up

he could not, and, carr^ towards the drawing-room.

from the floor, he V^Jced towards ^^hy you

"Well now he IS taking my Are vou crazy?

carrying my coat ^^gtamd at her, as though he were

Myshkin went back and ^

petrified. When cho i

iZ?f SM ”” sk:‘ *''' '»

„;?» My*-,

' “sr^srl a *'■” "'■’ '-' "“‘ ■•”•»

“*™fo4Sgl.t'f‘;“ Ato„d„vaa

too was stanimg bv^v''^ defending Varya resigned

herseHls LT had^eft Pdtsyn

timid sort- buf h ^ overawed; indeed Pencilled note,
“ore insufferable a ^“ther’s m denis k ^ ^irl of

J^ually left og snepi;^'"^^ Jn Lrl coarser and

brother in ironicafsii^^ only Jcent bar ^^^^““^tances she
to drive S/fc- ®y thisprogif^ T" on her
Myshkin entered thp out of all bounri ^ ^

N^^tasya m^oZ^’ ^ouncedf “°“ent

^-^ lact that NasS^s^n? . 'disturbing this junctu

hau°bH^“*u°“ them was^l^’i’”'?^ ^ ®''f^one. Th

j.&t'ty that she hpfS fstoundiW rj.-fi, ®rst time though
to make tte arn°^> she had been «

?itaf to lhl”'“"™fhte •t.pSI

so diff,cui[^°“S|’.Ganya ®dd« as though 4 pv
her Tn ^ subject yef ;^JP some extent- Si- “ ^ 'vere non-

*‘iS'5lg-si^';s

was aware of pir^K ^ '^'t to them.
gS ^®dd that was going on

* * ) » ’» 5'k aiid c-» thf atliusdc

In his- hon',-; »n altr: thf pit-x-nl of ijer

!«sU«iny «owak>>5i'jr, lu> f},,>\Sny «n %%hic]i she isad

ior.j:. Ka-dA’.ys .-s',

rt>a;n dc*f't a'-d J ■

thsnX):',-!. , , ■„ v.'l)V do von tic up d’"

"At Ivt I have tintUKcd uurt -o G;tnp.

l«nr* fdie laid r.o-.ddunrnn.-.rd*,^^

«h-j nkhtd to n;Kt her. \\t.> ho vo-n

d'.Ke sne, pha-'t.'* ;,.*fTvl'irvd Isrf hr-t to Varkt,

C.anva. utterly ” '^V-v^k^, before hofdinft out

and the two women -;t ‘ j.jj- however,

thtir handi. to V'' k/dnas v-pVa du)w of
hnj;hed and no ked j, ;,, .,,,,,1 leoke.l at her wiin

bu.t Varya did not "re to mj >, h^ oi

f.Wtrnv interv-ity. Iter fo.,,* * Ganva tvas njpjast, A

tire ctUc rvqtnrrd. l^V ^.oSi.nV indeed, arid Iw

wret to entreat, “*!• ihnt rhe .‘-tw from it

flunp ut V.tra-a 'urh n f .j,,.,. She ‘wnwl to m-re.e
vdnt tlie nvjnwsit nirant to U smiled at Nadn5yA

itp her ttrind to p!ve in to hn . I ^ _^,.j of otic

1-jiippovna. (All J.f’ ‘to’.nr'vhat improved by Mua

anotficrd *lhi: jK'nl/'n • . V confiwal, tnlraduced

Alexandrr.vna, whmn Vi,c inuoductlon to

niter hh ri"'.!-*'. He r'-r^ ’ o\«,,cr. Bnt no sooner h.-id Nina

Filipjwvma ir.fti-.nd o. to h ■ • • ^ ‘*qaal pleasure , etc..

Ahitndtnvna Wun atwdion to her. turned

when Na-ta’.ya ^■‘^’l'’»^’'"’“.,^j ^ tWn, without wading to ^
hurriedly to Canya and, j. |,„ the window, she cned

iwked. on a little ^ofa m t.»c comer .,

out; , . . ,j . . where arc th.c lodr.fr^?

‘•Where's your thidi? AnJ

You take lodgenr, don I voiu ^{a.mmering some answer,

Ganva flushed liotnbly ''f -'“I

but Karta^ya l'ilipi>ovna «*’‘’Vnder^ here? You’ve no shidy
••\M,ercvcr do yon J.ddenly addressing Mna

c.vcn. Docs it pay ' .

Alexandrovna. ,. . latter replied. ”01 course t

"Ifs rattier fronW;''^o|«r- di ^

mu.sl pav to some extent, but c i

' OQ

fallen ''’“f face ce

alien confusion had suddeSvSft his comic cres

evi look ‘^onvulS^.dy He bS"/ fearful]

^ l^r^was ^loZ1£Zf^l;X^.

"Drink frightened, he

against ^ Ganya's sofS Produced an

in silence w-ith^lZ^T^ by the^should^^'^ suddenly turned

a ^-ord. resentmifas bim

even vUercd . %1 f commoUon^ v^ unable to utter
Kolya and FerdSf^"^- ^ Alexandrovna

stopped short in ^ "'ho were^n • ^°™ard uneasily;

she was wati? amazement. Onlv & at the door,

beside her mothef did ?oVS? l"ben, yet

But Ganva rh„ . ^er anus folded I ^ but stood

n^oroent. anSauSh^"'^ bimsclf at olt f" ber bosom,
completely. ^bed nervously. Here^LfJ^P^^ the first
“Why, are you a d ^ self-possession

"Ur ' — in to nnn« ^ the

- harm done— nn t, announce me! Ha, ha,

loo ^ • vorgive me.

please. Fcrdyshlchenko. f

an hour? ^ f Gan^a. ^vho stiU

What pnnee? alysUhni? , ^ ^, 'l k.. now introduced him.
holding Mvshkin by the shoulder, had bj now
'•Our boarder." repeated Oanya. thrust him

It was obviotis that they », ^ means ot escape

upon Na-slnsj-a "autin'ctly ‘caugl^ the word

{rom a lake iWition. ‘V‘". ‘‘'^‘’""Sbably by Ferdv-sh-
‘•idiot” pronounced behind his ba • Pj^ Filippovna,

tchenko. a.s though in '°eSmw when I made

"Tell me. why didn t you Filippovna ^ycnt

sudi a dreadful mist.akc about V® • j unceremonious

on, scanning Myshkin from head to foot m

fashion.

muttemd. . where have you seen me

"And how did yp^ Pccms as though 1 had seen

before? But how is it? , ‘.^cre you so astonished ]ust

him somewhere. And tell me

* • 1 *» . _ ^ loiirfH*

pnnee I

men 1 laiKca lu — _„^rhcd Fctcrsouig,

moming in the train, before -hnut vou. . • • And at the very
Rogozhin told me a ‘ j thinking about you too,

minute I opened the door to y®
and then suddenly you appcarc . j,,,

"And how did you recogni^ that it was

"From the photograph, and . . •

"And what?” _ , imacined you. . . . I foel as

"And you were ]U5t as I ^ »>

though I had seen you somewh •

“WTierc — ^svherc?" „n„r pves somewhere . •

"I feel as though I had seen your > been here

that’s impossible. That’s nonsens^^.
before. Perhaps in a dream.

TOt

Mj/shkin had uttered hfo ta

often stopping to take br^th in an uneasy voice

^bitious and ?Lin ?o^^h

by wS SStaw''*** SSlvr’S„‘’T“- b«

ba°p?iSely to Jf ^Som‘ ^ ^ genieS?y

whereTCs fbe pato he h J P®^'

of complete rvn,v^^P°V^® taken un iif borne,

before Nastasw Pu™’ dared nof rnl t^P^ ^ attitude

fbe last minute bad held position

"The impatiS t ™thlessly kept th. '? ^''^P^^se tiU
bbn, sohf^d nSSv? of bim.

make her nav 'f’ sworn bv p,^^f^PPovna had called

be bad »Si“y fee i, ai.Sa^^f^eeJb tot he would
congruities. Now a chhd Jf ^ fbe same time

cup too, at such a ff’^f* be had t ^^o^ciling all in-

torture—most terHnf’°'“^"f 'ibove alli n^° f^is bitter

blefing fortil'”"' »' e; for a ««foresee„

bis lot. kindred, in his owm fbe agony of

"Is the reward itspif fallen to

At toat instant there w u *^™“gb Ganya's mind

^d mrde^toT bad been his mght-

fS /i^ya cS Ss[

-- r.-

considered the matter thoroughly and had decided at all costs
to suppress his parent for a time at least and to get him, if
necessary, out of Petersburg, iivith or without his mother’s con-
sent, Ten minutes earlier, when Nastasya Filippovna made her
entrance, he was so taken aback, so dumbfounded, that he
forgot the possibility of Ardalion Alexandrovitch’s appearance
on the scene and had taken no steps to prevent it. And behold,
here was toe general before them all, and solenmly got up for
the occasion too in a dress-coat, at the very moment when
Nastasya Filippovna was ‘‘only seeking some pretext to cover
him and his family with ridicule” (of that he felt convinced).
Indeed, what could her visit mean, if not that? Had she come
to make friends with his mother and sister, or to insult them
in his house? But from toe attitude of both parties there could
be no doubt on that subject: his mother and his sister were
sitting on one side like outcasts, while Nastasya Filippovna
seemed positively to have forgotten that they were in toe same
room with her. And if she behaved like that, it was pretty
certain she had some object in it.

Ferdyshtchenko took hold of the general and led him up.
“^i^dalion Alexandrovitch Ivolgin,” said toe general with
dignitj', bowing and smiling. “An old soldier in misiortune and
the father of a family wliich is happy in toe prospect of includ-
ing such a charming ...”

He did not finish. Ferdyshtchenko quickly set a chair for him,
and toe general, who was rather weak on his legs at that moment
so soon after dinner, fairly plumped, or rather fell, into it. But
that did not disconcert him. He took up his position directly
facing Nastasya Filippovna, and with an agreeable simper he
deliberately and gallantly raised her fingers to his lips. It was
at all times difficult to disconcert the general. Except for a
certain slovenliness, his exterior was still fairly presentable, a
fact of which he was thoroughly well aware. He had in toe
past moved at times in very good society, from which he had
been finally excluded only two or three years before. Since then
he had abandoned himself to some of his weaknesses, unchecked.
But he still retained his easy and agreeable manner.

Nastasya Filippovna seemed highly delighted at the advent
of General Ivolgin, of whom of course she had heard.

"I've heard that my son . . began Ardalion Alexandro-
vitch.

"Yes, your sonl You are a pretty one too, his papa! Why
do you never come and see me? Do you shut yourself up, or is

- - — J02

it your son’s doine? Ym. of i . .

comprising ° "”6''' «■"« lo see me

tto generi” centa;y a„d „

I promise you he ch,ii ‘

"Aidaiion AJevana ■ ^ - but now he needs

"NoTvaLa n’othcr"’’

. Nastasy^iJiR^i^^ C"t to the cnd.”^

She” s“ow“rf 'SS ^med onV '» '>'» the ooes-

f^ 'PPovna’s question -iT^^bWed on in i ^i’odorovitch
^ikolayevifch Mvchir* ' and fh ^ Nasfas3^

tw'enty years' senJ^’ son I havp Prince Lyov

cavalcade, so to av rt’ '^cce three to-day after

Aramis three mnci ^^^P^cabJes, a reeular

^?“derandab^et°an

. H ith bullets? ” cried V,' f’ ' ^ struggling

«?S *s •‘“ll”’’ •"“'2’aS''^?”™*'

all other respects I live like a philosopher, I walk, I play draughts
at my caf6 like any bourgeois retired from business, and read
the Jndependance. But with Epanchin, our Porthos, I’ve bad
nothing to do since the scandal two years ago on the railway
about a lap-dog.”

"About a lap-dog? ^Vhat was it? " asked Nastasya Filippovna
with marked curiosity. "About a lap-dog? Let me see . . . and
on the railway, too,” she repeated, as though recollecting some-
thing.

"Oh, it was a stupid affair, not worth repeating. It was all
about Princess Byelokonsky’s governess. Mistress Schmidt. But
. . . it’s not worth repeating.”

"But you must tell me ! ” cried Nastasya Filippovna gaily.

"And I’ve never heard it before,” observed Ferdyshtchenko.
"C’est- dn nouveau/’

"Ardalion Alexandrovitch 1 ” came again beseechingly from
Nina Alexandrovna.

"Father, there’s someone to see youl” cried Kolya.

"It’s a stupid story and can be told in two words,” began the
general complacently. "Two years ago — ^yes, nearly two, just
after the opening of the new X railway — I was already in
civilian dress then and busy about an affair of great importance
in connection wth my giving up the service. I took a first-class
ticket, went in, sat down and began to smoke. Or rather I went
on smoking; I had lighted my cigar before. I was alone in the
compartment. Smokmg was not prohibited, nor was it allowed;
it was sort of half allowed, as it usually is. Of course it depends
on the person. The window was down. Just before the whistle
sounded, two ladies with a lap-dog seated themselves just
opposite me. They were late. One of them was dressed in
gorgeous style in light blue; the other more soberly in black silk
%vifh a cape. They were nice-looking, had a disdainful air, and
talked English. I took no notice, of course, and went on
smoking. I did hesitate, but I went on smoking close to the
window, for the window was open. The lap-dog was l3nng on
the pale blue lady’s knee. It was a tiny creature no bigger than
my fist, black with white paws, quite a curiosity. It had a silver
collar with a motto on it. I did nothing. But I noticed the ladies
seemed annoyed at ray cigar, no doubt. One of them stared at
me through her tortoise-shell lorgnette. I did nothing again, for
they said nothing. If they'd said anything, warned me asked
me— there is such a thing as language after ail! But they were
rilent. . . . Suddenly, without the sh’ghest preface— I assure

you without the

a AsavlTwom '^''«?!ciBg

iooldne tall ^iV ^ savage tj'pe; yet a r»Tn " positively

HereytSareS,^°“^> rosy^Se^^ r^' ^°“fortable-

ordinjy foiSlv ^h- rasy m fact).

- si-kII I Sal

ina ar»/^ rsl • excl^imo/^ \T^_i _

Jaugh-

ana Clapping her han^e n ^

^Bravo, bravo!” cri.H i^:fa<*^^ “ — ,

h snjiJed thon^^K^'^’^^^‘*®^'°-

•■B«'S“'S7^1.5°£eS“^; .."Sp^d, I

Mpabently. ^dy do?”

JSf-’. "■• “«*■= -vha, a, ““

™itlieSg?i2J'^^“e- "WiStS^® '°'”“ “■" <•»'
™^d S-? »vage?^'.?i W «.= „„ ttfch'S" Sa^gi

..^^mher-hmher?’.

&“ »»t to be wooU^vTit r'®”',"')""™"

anS'^ Princess BvpI^’ ^ governess or

p_ ^^*^“3iicJ-th?T+r» Piinrpcc’^ j ^ Wack, as it

lo6 J^P-dog, screams on

the part of Ihe E"#* g“2SS^y‘’pScnct' TO‘

I went to apologise, f P"®%tter. Epanc^ quarrelled

ZTdipc«d««ce-l a^avays rart f j ,f happened on one

fte same story. ®lnT]?rtnchn.an and an Engteh-

of the Rhine railways between y. .jjie lap-QOo

lSL%e oi^ » in &e same way.

ESSTwiV WOO „„.hed too -dgne^d

The general flashed ternU^ i'?'? ''■phSISo

..urat fte very same

h” 0 Thp very same story ai u

•-Whatl Exa'itly SiTalike in every Retail, even^to
opposite ends the merciless lady.

Wiml a® pemlsted. "drat dre inddent
occimedlo rne ‘™ y^?'J^,iyi Filippovna laughed as though

s“^°^d torii™ sr—

hatred ^ front door-

ISarrSoi^fhere - a^ It betohened

107

But at that moment >■' m>^i

* -r&r RS.’S

si"hl of her had an cxliaordmaiy one

hemoSd^ntothedtatvinE-room^rt “Sev

saw Nina Alexantkovna After him came L , X

embarrassed, in spite of in ebadow and was very .’ xq
who followed him about a sh ^d^ Zalyozhev,

the student, the ^ little fat man sq^^ez^^ ,

right and left, and ast of “3^11 a check on them, ^d^

in. The presence of the ladies .^ould of cou^^

Ttev had once ten set ofi. d »

in. The presence 01 me straint, which woutu jxx

was evidently an unwelco ^ off^ if so , P, ^^5

have broken do^vn « they J arisen. Then all the ladies

for shouting and beginning ^ -heentlv,

in the world would not ha . j.> Rogozlun paitem,

"What, you here too, P^nc • ^ fc>,,gjjbmyourga

somewhat surprised at "^^^^Sikin's existence and ^i J
e-echl" he sighed, forg^tmgMg^ closer to her, as

towards Nastasya Filippo -nsltv at the

N&^™ul?povSo 'looked with uneasy cun - ty

Ganya recovered ^ ttS m'o”’ " S”s»i"S W™'

voSnooS tecSy^^r ”?SS altal, Ecudemen,

self principally to J ’ •» tt„rpd Rogozhin

my mother and sister are .T j. ^re here,” hiutt
"We see your mother and sister a

through his teeth. j. pother and sis

"That can be seen, th^. ^ond the statement

Lebedyev felt called opon t , doubt tha

. _,g,big and

Stood. -Bo.,

•yitSfss'torfS'i'f't ta • • •"

rnmmmm

Lret^rlt “P eveij^S %°-J buy you all up!

EoWo ”S^ Idto or™? ”fy- Tell me

»«-?sle?iSSsr^^d«

Wli hiOEhtv a„a ' '■"■

■'CertaSy™ “,'^“)J. and “dden y Serf ”“• "aaan-
“No ? No J ” rw' ^ seemed with cnrrf ’ answered

SSo/s„-“ «?. s^ss",-j '^a^r-ddigu.

A _T_ I

"T>,„ ' ‘^ned Rono7h;,a — “"^uisoir

Nasi^Fai they" tolS '^j“”delight.

SpSe:^i^Tu>s-^aSi Tto^r -

isn't it, Ganva his bride

wouldn’t ®,““ndrel? Y^m “e. That’s rieht,

, Get out of thironm ^ said I u buy him off

been flushina an^ ’.•^°“ are drunk i " • e.

His outbult^fSJ^S pale by turiis ^anya, who had
persons at nn ''^.followed bv a

iio intense soh'dtude

Lebedyey >vas '»l*f

S?me of oldacity 'fSiS'* '‘■'aPP"“J°,£s

he tossed on the table before her a And . . • and there s

paper and tied. ^ with stnng.

more to comel” , ^ ug panted. . r j-

”No‘no"lT”uCd;ev^

Tcooldbe divfoed

the som and was urging him to try

broUier, yon am ajo^i ^ r^fr/SnS

eyes of Nastasya Filippovna. g gt. , Vgd at

uWtoyou/’headded^j^^gl^gd as she looked

Nastasya Fihppoyna s ^ npasantl”

Rogozhin’s downcast face. gee he u a p ^

■•Eighteen tousand to me? Ah, on ^ from tn

she added with insolent ^ heart,

sofa, as though to v„ie scene with ^-.f^^^^wnpozhin.

Ganya had watched eigWeen 1’’ ""'^tJSfswen

“Forty thousand, then-fo^ « ^^^y thousand by sev

"Ptitsyn and Biskup P^^sed to g^^^ ^ „ Nastasya

o’clock Forty thousand I extreme, but N^^

The scene had become sc jaughing, ^nd^arya

Filippovna stayed on Nina Alexandrov ^jgmay to

were intentionally and waited m ,:y.ered, but

had also risen from them p Varya’s eyes g . , f. ghe

see how much further it would ^ pamful,

the eHect of it all on gf fainting. hundred

trembled and seemed on the p t gi""® Juvoir while 1 ’ '

"A hundred, then, if 1 ^e, it’ll be worth yomw

TteyU

“He is drunk and boasting,
though taunting him. . money be

■•1 am not boastmg, g^""

III

fcrS'&rmV!, ihoJ'Sl "■'•»' vou lii-c

stirred, smhJaity Alexantlro-

, „, a. „,,

s.I»nc= till u,.„ morntnl ,„ 1'"™;' ”"'l’»«l. allft l,i, compl-te

■•Tl.isisloidtotS'W'^."'"'!'' Como alotii;.

«ar, of toe

“’“Sy dldvcme'’’!';'

ansn-cred baci: ,5, it ivoJm,,,- tv °'"™!>o”i:«r-

a fool lo invite fJifm < °"‘™P>hous eaietv '•• \ V t
^tstcrtrcate^’^'r‘?,my partyihi^^^^^^^^^ '''i[ fn.c like

Tot some lime‘'Gtt‘ ^;*'''f'' 0 ''ifcl,|- *' your

Sn7.to'S'h'’e“' a< "la

- ''a?rs 3 s
H?was

^"a. have f do , -'»• "o yas

a™a''ht3dtSV''SoT^^^^ l»6 .00? fa i. ,.

some Sfanf creature?" Varja

"“osratnlarejloot^.'KlI'a.IasjaPii, ,

eoMn'?Ji’l"S dkeed before r ■°'

'« f»'"'’''“y ' 00 -

1 caught

•■Arc you uluoys SoiuB to g”flIySl!m a

Ho lot so Viup’s ■•t;^ hood. _

violent slap m the lace . , • Unnds. ‘‘My Godl

"Ahl" cried Kolya, ^ n gj^gs. Myshkin turned pale.

Exclamations were heard on strange and reproach-

He looked Ganya “i &c fa ^ articulate something; they

lul eyes; his hps and utterly incongruous simle.

were twisted into a sort of s wan ^ ^ ^^,^-;,ti,tyou,’ he said

"Weil, you may ... ^utner . _

^^^JttSdy he hro^^-. ^
hands, moved away to a comer, sioo

• and in a breaking of what you’ve done !

"Oh how ashamed you wm , . utterly crushed. Kolya

Mj^in in all diroo-

•■vou

ac;rd,'Ga;f\S^»^Sn ‘??!irco’SinB, dri/ti

(he could not find Vn show you what a fnen

curse them and come along.

Rogozliin can be. much impressed y

Nastasya answeri Her P£p^g

’tac/linh a>|

ing. Yet sn tic expression. , „ che said, speak-

‘”?.S'rfouJ.a™cdl^ Mysbldu and-

5Siy"S % “"U^Staud -""i“r

Nastasya ghe looked at Ganya,

hide sometong out of the f^’^^^-roo • ^ ^

sS ISr “ 's”“““ IHI"

S“L'fv£““/S;^'L'^" =“"e

walked mth pJf loudly di^usslnrr c °i? "'^y out

' ■■« r' “'

- ^e p,.,a m™.

v.xiai-i:er XI

? An'TnTr"’

^ith as; it’s all on And ^ore will be

"There are so of that Nastasv oveiy day

.Very much. iThen ^^unfortunate. Would

wards!®' ^ uoiSdf'^I'S^/,?"^?”

- As if you

II4

'wo could,

But you didn’t spit at ti * ,

pluck. But here she she has faults. grst

come. She is generous, thou^h^^ pouncing on , him

"You’ve no business h«e^ bo&ering you,

nf all "Go to father, m nc . „rviPT

"Not at all, quite Ae off I That’s the

"Now then, elder sisier, y father’d be sure t 6 , . jg

lud, by the way, I fought ^ ta ^ gee what

iogozhin. He is pemie -rr-iya going out. , ^ gjjd

ibolt, 1 suppose,’’ ad<ied Kotya g ^ de-

"Thank God, I Ga^yl is ashamed and^very^^^

there was no fresh ,, , y/hat a lesson I • • • j;[astasya
pressed. And he rnay did you know f^as

to thank you agam^and to asK y

Filippovna before. , 'not

"No, I didn’t. to her face that sa® ghe

"Then what made yon fa jessed ^Je her object

like this’ ? And you seem to hav qj oouise^na^

really isn’t. Icantma j>ye heard a g how could

was to insult us, &at s her well. He

queer about her loefore. tupT-v ptitsyn kno And with

le behave like that o xnofter?^^^^^ V '^Sspeerto talk
says he would hardly anyone with s . ^ worried

Rogozhinl It’s impos^^l'LpPg . Mother too is very
like that in the house o gesture of his

‘“ind how »as it she obeyed you! • • ' ^d at

Sho.ougt to addod Vatya.

once. You have an influence ov
with a faint smile.

1X5

?S. ">*'" «>

^3™^ . «!° --rr it-Si ' -

Owning my fanif? ’

he tuS forgiveness from tliem. ”

"Y? ■T,°‘? SO to NastaSl suddenly,

yourself whSher^j^g" 'f^ 'f- but^yorS ’^°^Sht?”

‘hink what do'cs shp f '^'’os sh^ mo^® that this is

J^other’sh^md ^f.^^’''^y°"for.heL7fP^U ^^^ides, Ganya!

'^“‘y-nve thousand you all tbV ' “^oKeiy; but you

rooj™® •'*. “”■'

rhaCs how iheo all ar - ' 'Ja'akly out of the

- ^’aS'' <=•">-. au.ili„,...^„,_

they suppose I don’t know tliat myself? Why, I know much
more than they do."

So sajdng, Ganya sat do^vn on the sofa, evidently disposed to
prolong his visit.

"If you know it yourself,” asked M 5 ;shkin ratlier timidty,
'"how can you have chosen such misery, knowing it really is
not worth seventy-five thousand?”

"I am not thinking of that,” muttered Ganya. "But tell me,
by the way, what do you think — I want to know your opinion
particularly — is such ’misery’ worth seventy-five thousand, or
no?”

"I don’t think it’s worth it.”

^ I knew you’d say that! And is such a marriage shame-

"Very shameful.”

"Well, let me tell you that I am going to marry her, and
tliere's no doubt about it now. I was hesitating a little while
ago, but there’s no doubt now. Don’t speak 1 I know what you
wsmt to say,”

"I was not going to say what you tliink. I am greatly sur-
prised at jmur immense confidence.”

"In what? What confidence?”

“Why, that Nastasya Filippovna is sure to marry you and
that the matter is settled, and secondly, that if she does many
you, the seventj'-five thousand will come into your pocket. But
of course there’s a good deal in it I know notliing about.”

Ganya moved nearer to Myshkin.

"Certainly, you don’t know all,” he said. "Why else should
I put on such chains?”

"I think it often happens that people many for money and
the money remains with the wife.”

"N-no, that won’t be so with us. . . . In this case there
are . . . there are circumstances,” muttered Ganya, musing
uneasily. "But as for her answer, there is no doubt about that,”
he added quickly. "What makes you think that she’ll refuse
me?”

"I know nothing about it except what I've seen; and what
Varvara Ardalionovna said just now ...”

"Oh! That was nonsense. They don’t know what else to
say. She was laughing at Rogozhin, you may take my word
for that. I saw it; that was obvious. At first I was frightened,
but now I see through it. Or is it the way she behaved <o
mother, father and Varya?”

117

"'W n

scores, onJy a feminine pavinn off f

■ vain wom^iit^®: a fearfully f

SS?'“" Sin«??'- J»“ <io"-tJowi;

pioSve m' effnl S

£0 easilv) that- ^ave made the vain rt«i into the

ier misforSn^’ iho'^th 'for he^ (and

same. I don-x it would have hf^n r ® ^'i

foat's what I ou^ht ^^‘'^"se I do?t Sr fo®

It inrf the samef 9S S' "'tiat is she dn^ ^ i?
g?t up gamine has she to

give it. Oh Well I show fo

"Can you hlv^S ™°'t

who^ at fimf ^BuSh ^^PPened ? ”

has £^Sy miilfeiT^^i/^.^re are women

qfoctly; bul^ « she’ll bS; J ‘ fo^t she

the moneyS^i"u,S“‘“?^’ ^ shalfabLr'^' behave
I don’t 'Want to ^ ^on't want tr» k ^ once and

./l^p S^/nS” “''>«■•• ° '’' "'*“"'™-' »'>»'’•

„H ';'S^*''«d'''S;™“ fv„,- oteen-ed

„a„,

"Won XU ® I''hat’r - ■ ’

iosl no» Imppcncd

seen my attachment now and co So 1 e®

being ready to break all ^ ^on’t wrong

fool, you may be sure. By pp^uons I really anr doing 8
usuaUy such a gossip, do you? P ' ^^^.^^use you *

in confiding in you, across, that I

first honourable man 1 ve ^ not angiy

Don't think I say that the first time for the last

happened just now, a^c 5 • ^.pot^en from my hear .

Jo years, perhaps, 'hatl havcg_ n,ore hon st Aan

♦nrriKU; few honest people „,nn’t vou? See

scoundrel? And, do you M.-y * - j., whafs scuu,,

and call myself a scoundrel tool

really scoundrelly 1 . , you as a scoun ,

"1 shall never J?°ht of you as quite vacke^, ajid j ^

Myshkin. "Just now ^^°“Sjndden. It’s a lesson to me
have so rejoiced me all of ^ that you ^ t b ^
judge without experience. demoralised

iidered wickdd, nor dVca >'S„t orfinaty

not to
le con-

Oave so re]Oicea me a.a v,* - - ^ tnar yv,u -

judge without experience. ^y demor^iscd m •
sidered wicked, ®'^°'^„_fthcmostorinarymc ,,

opinion you are simply on weak and not at eJ 8 p^ak.

pLsiblyk only perhaps very s S'

Ganya smiled sarcastically to ,vas em

Myshkin saw that his opimon P

"K aoea, r'‘frai'd'’»

S^i’SSSricyp.ss^

they are oldl The sHgWes ch^f^\ flash. He^ednotj
nothing left of them, it s all A In old da3^ nowl

such lies in ‘^^I^h-^nd see what it’s he keeps a

rather over-enthusiastic-^ Un you kn ; liar

course drink’s at the bott .v,:np worse than „

mhtassr He has become someum^ long-?'^e^^^ee-horse
now. I can’t understand f T or how his^grey trace- ,

told you about the siege o at that,

began to talk? He with laughter.

And Ganya suddenly

ny

» hy do j,.o ,0,*

- SEII!

f>s a child would m-ii ; ;, >"*‘J«!''<-- I’ll hiv, vour fmuP - I

tliousnnd Ti iii Iukukk-,- ar^! fS.ii' ” ^^fi'Unt

"V.'inf ,i ^ ‘ ‘•'tin'-how nlv-ir.i^,^ I • '-'-I'Crdvfjvc

,,\.^hat^do .vou r.n:uc horn tl.n, 'ncrcdiblc/*'

S>!?b/ 6? 0^'nlv

mmd and character '/, ^"”'"1: 'I ^o. for I a)5\{i]/,^’''’''^'\‘^'T'

Ijccausc I hive ee ■ I'Cfatirc J lun nrr: . i ^
ecta'Vcntv-five ol^Jtxf. You thint o ^3'' P‘‘^"’’lon.

<=>“!> acquainSf'V^'*’*^>-^^^ ^

iimonp tic thriiioi ' nre fctv i nil mv

—— """ "■“ "'■ ■’" -'»«n,e’' /, , r-'r”"*

Well it will be the

this is all childish or, { want. Anyway, I shall

raorclun for me, and 1 shall do dermcr.

persevere and carry A ^ gpitc, is it? hfever!

Wt makes Epanclun insult f ° ^sequence. But then . . •

It’s simply because 1 am of so Kolya has poke

That’s enough though, it s f calling you to dinner.

his nose in at the door t^ice already ,_h sometimes. You

And 1 tun coing out. I slin.ll rnaVp vou Quite one of t

will be all right wnUi usi I believe that you

family now. Mind you don t S' . ^vhat do Y®"

and 1 shall either be fnends or cnem ^ j offered to do),
prince, if I had kissed your " Vafter^vards?'’ ^ ,

would that have made me for always. >ou ^

"It would have been sure to, but forgiven me,

not have kept it up afterwar ^ ^ moment’s 'boug *

Myshkin decided, wth a laugh, af r ou. Dam

"Ahal One must be more no onc^S«^^^t tool And wlm
it all, you have put a drop , „ ^c ^vay— ha, ha, ‘ .
knows, perhaps you arc an one j / ^,mg iliat you were
1 forgot to ask you, was I right B ’ ’
too much taken wtli Nastasya PP
"Yes . . , 1 like her.

"Tn 1nvf> with hCT? ”

never
of

"In love with ner? .

"N-no ’’ aVpII never minu,

"But he is blushing “^^'know she is a
mind, I won’t laugh. But do yo ^ imagine she i
virtuous life? Can you bMicv • for ever

with that man, Totsky? Awkward, and t

And did you notice that she is ^ Yes, really. B s

was embarrassed for some sccon . ^^f^grs. Vve , g

people like that who are fond of dominati g

’■^ya ™n, out in a good

than he had been v.-hen he entered. Mys

less for ten minutes, tlunlang. again- , lunch

Kolj^ poked his head m tte door ag ^ g^od lun

"I in't want any dinner, Kolya, in.

at the Epanchins’.’’ oave Mv'shkin a- -s face

Kolya came in altogether ^ ^ general- Ko y ^ ^

folded and scaled and was from thej^.^_ Myshkm reao
showed how much he disliked gi b , -nn “B®

got up and took his hat. ‘ . , T'ofva iu coniusi

"It’s not two steps away, s

I?.i

=> A°';,S^nr’

sec your father^”” fioiiig to him rnvjclf KoIvt t
■OLYA Jed M . -'^'n

SSelSS™''»“S,S"l

^^^depcndanct' P^t "’'**s •'icluallv h ^ JxiltJc on a

make verj- iittjJ of which £7i'- ’V” ^

"I }>.iyen't U-.-4 could

teen fo NkiL'ki^fV'''** ^ ecqiie^t‘"oo ^ 'mnindiaicii..-'
"Me? 'PPP^oa's?" ’ • ficncrnl. You've never

acccss'Tf

«-«fn£rv^RM 'SI ^

?«$ this tnomine for vonr^e?f * f"cotirage an

indulgent fathe^^'thiV’-*^ •‘‘f’ -i faU^r '^’f*'

on to the c i . ^°w a ven' 7?" and

}'arnor who has set^' we «;j?,ii Lather must

mtngue, orwliShofi f^onour ua'll

■ te "®';'' f > miiF .'^'""'''“ '“"lie Shi ] SrS'r

to K "SyOTSlo ask VO., ,.a..o_ ” ”«»

122

•■Thafs precisely, ° ^ S “as^°P

“tcoXf ^5’ «

however, and patBng it in his pock ^ gjjon to NnctMya
rSk you to be try “'”P™°ao?agiinst Nastasya ^
Filippovna’s, or rather “ f Myarti-' How wdl

povm. General Ivolgin ^4 her name-day, I vnh

.^Ss^iei}:«H-S:SSntfs

and so on. or . . • ^"o-dock we wdl start, we ve p
■very happy one. At m

"^‘^ere does she live?” the Great Theato, at

Mho^teoVs S^r'^iln.Sday, and it

^JiKL^upVrly^ • • evening. n^Sbero^f

It was gettog on m the^e "^trao^Sto’s arrival

waiting for the genera > . , of them._ On to finish it;

anecdotes and ttie and it took him an h t,e

he asked for another hoWe. » finished it to”. HJ’Soost flie
then he asked for general had narrateo

believed that by tha longer.

whole of his t up and said he oo^^ bottle, stood up,

At last Myshkin got up out of the ,vas in

The general ornptied w ’?"^'^®l^^could^ave believed

and walked out of ^ ^^^g^tand bov;; ho corau n
despair. He o?Md no^un j ^t he n^ ^ of

in him so foohshl;^ ^ dconed on the g e

him-, h. had amply « f.!?, “Id anything, vep-

in him so foohstu^ reckoned on tne g gome

& him; he hfd amply even at

getting to be had ^be thoroughly dnmk;

impropnety. eneral turned o^ ^.^^out crasmg,

S »imon_^‘ Sa^irrwas high time to put a

brought abou

was still thawing.

“'Th‘« rcachch U'Slgldmi "P

n, muggy- ^

A warm,

SHSf “c'.or • ^

°si™?SH"“ "ss'i^fv f is,"','

„„ S.Tol.^’fXS 4

j'legiaphed lo Pa* '' s»l'l)' on my accmni'nJ p '*°" *

~ t 'Sls'- »" 5o£t “,t"?s ="?'r

mfo the be?>Vn a free pass in tiie mrrT doctor.

o( m,: Da'™ “loti in himr* "■ i^' ."“'•s Urn ivSS
iives s'okolovhrh^'^^ house, p.-ine'e? 7rf »if ^1-°"' ®P‘^3k

numerous familv of mine waih ^°or there

the NevsJcy Prom^vT^^ and^,^i“/ honourable and

circle—tha^t is in i^Iorskavn’ iamikcs Jiving in

drovna resi<mej ^ ”’^,P'^t3onal acquainH^^^'*^ “P P'‘‘^nt
remembeMf7el^,3^°^'^li ‘° circunS^JJ^'j”^^- Alexan-

the cultured so?fetVnV mvseff"^°- ^

worship me to th c comrade in

hcen to call on him GcneraJ^Snt^i®“^'''^‘"^^“ "’i’®
seen Anna FyodZ °' f ii‘«e i bSf

visiting others one is apt invn'^ufi "’i*™ one

^heve me S" 3^?^ . . . hm ! to drop out of

^end of my vo'nih ^ ®°t infrodjee in soem to

delightful family? ‘companion of mv dearest

• ^ I^-olgin a7d i"‘o

ornaments of Sir, °ot one^-ndPM“, ' You
^nh-ghtenment . ^nd of so^'^’®', three

, PPy Varied rnmi^* ^ }'ornan ouestinn ^ 1 ^cauly culture,
ih°nsand 7oubS^"^P°n, to nSlunfn^^T^ in a
a i^wback inT^oS tor eaSf ^ dovsp. of eighty

n fact I must I certa°^ feminist or cn "^iheh is never

and Prince ]vr3^hkinS^Y must introduce 777^ questions. . . .
Mysh!^in°"‘^^' S'Suv'"

“^'''0 forgotten nothing__noth- ' ' ■”

I 24 '"“’ ^°™'=^°ngl This way.

T wonder why there's no port^.

UD this magnificent staircase. ^las taken himself

.0 avo. «a«ns

SL®lc!Sal Sokolovit*^'

evaporate Uke a “"“S® steps downstairs. But to In

flat and the ^ut one strange circumstance held nim

mind to make his escape, but one B ^ ^

for a moment. general.” he said, the n

inquisitively ^ Myshkin. „ pronounced,

»3"S

for wk"* 125

bowed them out. ’ “ore confidence, as she

diminishS wSlitfr4Sfea^Il,%®"f^ continued with Un-

Sous'^"' io^dtlZ

acq^tance. making such a delightfuJ

may hS?’^ H something of a poet in

S wronR flat ” h; ' * ^ b^beve we

m a dSSKn^ly- “The Soiolovitc^TS"'^

Yes T bouse; and I fancy tor. th ^ ^‘^™?mber now, iive

.. ''Tbere’s only'^^'e

on'^^u^altoX'

on I^lein Ivolgin’ is to sav don't know

in the °o a rock fl^t’ > you can build

jost to '^'bich I began mv to say

my soul hn ^ ^°c one minute on thp ^ service. I have only

anxieties. ^°mid consolaS^^t

refreshed fn Here at ofiicers ... and

f^ily ^oublS""^' here I briJg I am

byeT’“^’*’ ™“™“red^?fy^®blp^ t? have troubled you this
"Hot I cannot I ' ’ ''''Tou’re...Good-

being. A ^^-strings xS'if ^ family? and she

on ceremony in thp ^ matter of five through all my
’’yself a h”ue fS,® ^ abnost five th ^ bon’t stand

E assure you T ne a’ bren we’li dnV J wash, make

126 Here, in this house.

arhomc! OT have 5'°" "S™ \“>o 'hV'

Tin " answered Kolya,

uci-ii T'vn lUSt uccii ww - - *

n bed this inoiming. pvnectine you. Only,
irgSsTmo'Tarda. ap.^alchiag U,o

father, you are in a state . j come along,

way his^ father walked and stood. ^ ^y^hkin to ?“ompanv

The meeting with Kolya only for one minute. , .

general to Marfa Bonssovnas^ y^ the

wanted Kolya; he ''P himself for haying J^^ed

any case, ^d couW^e a Sg time climbing up to die

„y dea, >« ‘""r'-.'Sa

^■Do you know, father, you u S

to you I There has been you m get

“ - Sr.a,da^r»rSd^ pMS .a ^n.

1 < 0 .

‘T’ll stay here, h m gjaf g surpnse m

Kolya went m fct- i She was heaviiy^^

a lady peeped and a 50°^ as the lady

painted, wore ^PI^« about forty. As soon

“Here he is, th rnuttcred to Myshkin,

'' ''Come in, it"lff'^^ ^kardfy passed through a

S h'Xff ,» SSS »V charge in a pcavish

•Aren’t you
tyrant of my

127

“ • • • f’rince, I v.’as'cZ ’n' ' ^

f?°eral. standing S "T. * ’ • Mistaken J Su

Sections. “I ^ ^ ^ weak," said t

dear child!'* ^ forgive we bomng in £

^..feootchka, a eiri ^otchka, a piJJow . .

Jeather^he geneS «>fa S^eS' ^

mournfully ^ '"fo the sleen !?™!d on his side farintr th#

and sank in+ ^ he ^ore, b

mournfully anri die sleep of on his side facing- tl

T?* »» her taS “■ fhe sat “ora's, “yjhtm to a chair .
Three little chi^°' ^d began 1 ^- him, with her rigf

j^ee also stared*atV° Lenotchk;

fFP^ya made liis anrL^^Tshkin. ^d then- arms on it, ant
. I am yo„. .^PPearanr-r, x__ .

ii you caro to taow. It's SrS'Se Kv.

Sb of ton. Sho '5;'“ "So D“ y™ ‘°

Comers; it’s much take you tliere.

It’s half-past rune. If Myshkin (alas ) had

Mvslikin and Kolya '^ent out ^t once,

notlung with which to pay f lonolit,” said Kolya, h
Twanted to introduce IpPSug-jacket. He was m

the eldest son of hS been in bed all day. But

Ko" He?s y^^tfu^^ ;-^Sm?ng " momenh

my iak^but his pother It does make^

no^ dishonour for the u>ale s^x h“is ^

it’s only a prejudice tb^ one s ^ but he is

other in such cases. Ippou^

slave ''ertain prejudices. „

S?lu£'irah= criod Kolya, a=d he goppod

S'ev^Sp^C M toe to, ah
S“i '■ . ou only Boios iaa*

"Plaveyousoineobjertro^g^^B^^^^jg^y , ^ ^ ^

pour passer leUmps in h ^ ^ ^th an ]

out into words, but . • • . -^at I care to

•‘■^■■S -toSat it J„S%'iJSS6loutoo“ “ “ "

know is that yo” 'ire not sunp y ^ and mone

the fascinating
If it had been

people are tenibly

tnturers nntvQ/^o-»*^!j * y noticed, prince, n

— ;“* uciuvea countrv "^s, in Russia

understand. The foSafaW « about, I d?n't

see now? Everyone™ taSnf^,?^ but wb^t d^we

are“S;e&sfto?r\'^°°® showin

?“sSr S a“iTST ^ JS?

sti^ at anythiiiP to eet mnn ™ ^^uscow teaching his son not
Just look at my gfnei^'^ST' ^ow it from SS pZSS
kno^v it seems to me^t m^‘b^ be come to? And l?^u

really i^ s^I ;™Sa^?ty Id ^neTll

lla-i^^aLXIor-hS,^

fo^lppom >via mSreSJa^r- "^dmvar

people, that w “4 ^1,“ ,1“?; ."»‘ fee are „„ sb,,^, -

■ nnf" T

oSJ'pSSeTv™ '"“Se?.7rfc.P« »0^,

help lik^ mother andVaiva ' n ^ have

f a ^rS-SrJl

and he is bitter^^^ ^ it r^nht ‘ w ' ^ b in her.

^d called it almost eve^one ^ A?^c^PP°bt feels it,

b ^°n^elimS °K“^ ““brer’s pS°bS„t^ Jre laughed,
a note of that r y°'^ call that “^ ^6 begins to feel
“°?,”»'’mg at thin£“^^ doesn't know it Kl ^ ^^all make

fep. thea. Tb “” "

“‘•i “^w"VonSS^.'“ “ e««‘ ■I'o’

T liL'p vou very much. I can't forget
“Do you know, pnnce, I like you v y

what happened to you this , ..

“And 1 like you very ^ IhVhere? I shall soon get

“Listen. How do you intend e^ together, you and

“itndlppoirwI’U iat and kt the genend come

‘""rshaU be delighted. B“‘ ^'u,is*the'5sS'’ What a
S‘gnr;nt'L“ c^aS a baii-porterl Well, Kolya, don

know what will come of i • , . tjewilderment. ,

Myshkin stood shll as ^ too fnghtened.

“You will tell tjunk as you do about everytlung.

God cive you good luck, for I Tnoolit. There’s no doubt

Sol-bye 1

Soofol^M

CHAPTER XHI

M yshkin fclt very '""-'Xhe^’wo^t 4at can

could to give himsch coura|^ ^ ^11

happen,” he thought, is _s she’ll see me and laugh

think something bad of me, o p ,,P . ^ fact the prospect

be ,„e,c to -tch a fav^mbl, oppo^.^^^^^ J?” sTe

'"'ThKo’waa aS'lber onanswered dnesBon before him,
%rite’ifdS“»=b"SS ended by going

had still had

fer chiefly by luxury and comfort tn ‘^paamed of tempting
acquired and how diffiiTfTp"® habits of

3Jds, when luxury pradna)iir S*''® op after-

respect Totsky clung to^e “acessify. fo tliis

ing it in any way, having an^un^? '''^^hout modify-

refiKp 1°^ appeal to the senses Nart supreme

refuse luxuiy^she liked it fodeM ^^^^a FiLppovna di'd not
was not in the least a slawfp as it seemed she

“ J?"'?’- Th® raS' k“?

. j i^iaiuiy on several reoK tne trouble fn

^repression on Totsk^ "’hich made an uSint

Rlippovna which s^ck however, in NasfoS

him to conti’Tm^^^' subsequSrti^
SroS^b°^ ^‘th wS shefSp?°“ of

te'tte a saSdld

pSt“omen™er^ ignorance of ffi^ct -'^'fP^ayed an

gaimenfe tw t. “at in a doc:^v,^ V^’ instance, that

have been extrem "^anasy^vanovitlh ihn batiste
Fihppovna'sedu«fS:?l^^^'^- The whole nir:?“i.^

,,1^1 i*: j»

wth a ^eVto^s^uch®'’ been from^e^^^^- Nasta^
person in his result by Totskv „^§ianing elaborated

^ge one ^ut, K Z'n a very subtle

always kent c ^ ^a.t, Nastasva^v^'^ product was a

h^eh by^ it;eSi"f;„'!^''^h at tim^intSSr„f..^^^'

always kent .n that, Preduct was a

himself bv its' which at timS^r7f^*^PTovna had, and

sort of power rfhaordinary and fasdnabn’^^®'^-®''®^ Totsky

K!‘Si

Myshkin^^"" I? Nastasya FilipZ^r^ a?w. when all
women serv^f^ a maid (Naffo^ pnf collapsed,
surprise the girl her to ta^ h;5^PT°Yaa kept only

tion at the sfaht n?T^ wonder and and to hfc

sleeveless clo4 ^ °h ^ hoots’, £ "o hesita-

asked him ^l^'ahanassed S ^K^^™od hat. his

aaoounce him. “ ‘he reception-r^ °^his cloak,

Nastasya Filinnn » ' went at once to

d about her PT^^’^a's party consisted nf .1, •

0 guests were few in n ‘ho circle she always
rew m number, indeed, com-

pared with similar birthday parties of previous years. In the
first place, Afanasy Ivanovitch Totsky and Ivan Fyodorovitch
Epanchin were present. Both were amiable but secretly imeasy
and in ill-disguised apprehension of the promised declaration in
regard to Ganya. Ganya of course was tliere too. He too was
very gloomy and preoccupied, almost rude in fact. Most of the
evening he stood apart at some distance and did not speak. He
had not ventured to bring Varya, and Nastasya Filippovna
made no reference to her, but immediately after greeting Ganya
she alluded to his scene with Myshkin. General Epanchin, who
had not heard of it, was much interested. Then Gan3'a dryly
and -witli restraint, but perfectly openly, told what had hap-
pped that afternoon and how he had gone to the prince to beg
his pardon. He warmly expressed the opinion that it was
strange and unaccountable to call the prince "an idiot”, that
he drought him quite the opposite — a man, in fact, who knew
very well what he was about.

Nastasya Filippovna listened to this dictum with great atten-
tion and watched Gan}^ curiously, but the conversation passed
immediately to Rogozhin, as a leading figure in the scene at
Ganya's. Totsky and Epanchin were much interested to hear
about him too. It appeared that the person who knew most
about Rogozhin was Ptitsjm, who had been with him and busy in
his service till nine o’clock that evening. Rogozhin had insisted
on their obtaining a hundred thousand roubles that day. "It's
true he was drunk," observed Ptitsyn, "but I believe he has
secured the hundred thousand, difficult as it seems. Only I am
not sure whether he will get it to-day, and whether he'll get it
all. Several people are at work for him — Kinder, Trepalov,
Biskup. He doesn't mind what interest he gives, of course, as
he is drank and in the first flush of fortune,” said Ptitsyn in
conclusion.

All this information was received wth interest, though it
seemed to depress some, and Nastasya Filippovna was silent,
obviously not caring to say what she felt. Ganya too was mute.
Epanchin was secretly almost more uneasy than anyone. The
pearls he had presented that morning had been accepted with
rather a frigid politeness and even a shade of mockery.
Ferdyshtchenko alone of all the party was in a festive holiday
mood. He laughed aloud at times for no special reason, simply
because he had taken up the part of jester. Totsky himself,
who had a reputation of a witty and elegant story-teller, and
had usually led the conversation at these parties, was evidently

133

J’ini. The othe-

incapable of lively converStiorhnf were not merely

« p«ve„ „.0,co.e. The
ifw?.' as from NasSa some queer

rsiSillP^— =

tendendS it?f dmigerouf

taken it tf' °ot amiss encourage such

maSe? He ^ to t«m up‘ eJe he has

him at leaS amuse us, as fafaf? an. original

. "EspeSy as ho ha. • •
m at once. invited himself " TT.r^ u. ^

What Of that,.. ....... ^-'^y^tchenko put

/'yeirwhatofthat?'* t. ^-^y^tchenko put

-Oh. Pm« Mv hl- •

S?to'thT£"l' «« 4 S°s' H?S?“''-'>. any,vay," ,be
equal footing wfttf in the same”^'"^^ reconcile him-

"Aie. Smf ^^^‘i 3 'shtchenko company and on an

simpering® " Ferdyshtchenko ” ,•

::'Vha, speciarpJ,l?”*3p«,IpJ^^^^ the Mer,

East time I had th» i,^ yon m?"

yom eSieicy.'eS '• to yS?™5l'* '“"'■y •” the
Feaides, lama^vS v^^'? no oveiyone knows

IputuS^^"d'etiveman Sdlf the truth,

eomes to grief, msult, but onl^ rfi ^*^0=0 I have

^ aoon as he comes to Lvr “y antagonist '
1.34 ^“’^^omemberit.and

•T Vick ’ as Ivan Petrovitch
at once avenge mpclf in some way . gy.

Ptitsyn has said to me. ' „our excellency, The Lioi_

one ^Do you know Krylov s fa * ^ .wTitten about us.

Sd the j 4’! Well, ‘Sf, fthi*. Fcrdyshtchcnko,

“You are talking nonsense again, ^

said the general, boiling over. ^..^nrted Ferdysh-

“WViat fin vou mean, your

ll^d W -

S>;.e?iaSe i “S'"'

and your excellency is the hon, as i j

The mighty lion, ,S''^osfws strength.

With growing years ha

All ““S'a'SpS u/ng for Ferdyshlchenko to be

MoVyW only received here . bat

,See??e ineon" i, ™rs aometo.es^'g^e.

"£S£fo

able r"^?* at use to Nastasya.FrbppoTO^-^^^^H^ ang,"

‘“■TSe ;i?»“Sd’’''foS “> =“

FerdysMcbenko, and please don’t get
exSed,;"i;5 gf/Ser special prolection, I will be indulgent
too.^ ^ Filippovna got up not listening to him, and

T forgot to invite you t^^aftemn^ ^.ppearing before him, "that
you give me an I urn veiy glad S

Tlf doTSToS^" 3^°*^ -^d^efliSg you

“* to H„d

S'?ti ™ *° ““"“'y

I had ct K ‘ 1 would not like fn i’t^ ' your being thfp

■•Do“f ii””,?! •" .0 y“„.“"’^,' >"■“ f • ■ .

;;^t would destarsi;’

■ *• ™

talking and lanah-^ company seemed to something

ySi'z :r' "~ =**»■-

put in

whole confessed hi^ST^®f^°"^'’“*^

^ut of plavfuln^ • ^^y^ uttered way."

„;'I've rnSrl^,' “ ^ gJooffly to?e S£h'®"°“Jy* without a
3 simply ansv^red rcpS s^ge.

your question." ‘'f3'shkin, flushing.
1^6

“Bravo! Bravo 1” shouted Ferdvshtchenko. “That's sincere
any\vay— it’s sly and sincere tool”’

Everyone laughed aloud.

"Don't shout, Ferdyshtchenko," PtitsjTi observed to him in
an undertone, with disgust.

"I should not have expected such an enterprise of you,
prince,” remarked Ivan Fyodorovitch. "One wouldn’t have
thought you were that sort of fellow. Why, I looked on you as
a philosopher. Ah, the sly dog I”

"ited to judge from the way the prince blushes at an innocent
jest like an innocent young girl, I conclude that, like an honour-
able young man, he is cherishing the most laudable intentions in
his heart,” the aged teadier, a toothless old man of seventy,
suddenly said, or rather mumbled, to the general surprise, for
no one had expected him to open his lips &at evening.

Everyone laughed more than ever. The old man, probably
imagining that t^y were laughing at his wit, laughed more and
more heartily as he looked at them, till he ended by coughing
violently. Nastasya Filippovna, who had an unaccountable
affection for all such queer old men and women, and for crazy
people even, began looking after him at once, kissed him, and
ordered some more tea for liim. She told the serv'ant who came
in to bring her a cloak, in which she wrapped herself, and then ,
to put more wood on the fire. She asked what time it was, and
the servant answered that it was half-past ten.

"Friends, would you like some champagne?” Nastasya
Filippovna suggested suddenly. “I've got some ready. Per-
haps it will make you more cheerful. Please don’t stand on
ceremony.”

The offer of wine, especially in such a naive way, seemed very
strange from Nastasya Filippovna. Everyone knew the rigid
standard of decorum maintained at her previous parties. The
company was becoming more lively, but not in the same way
as usual. The wine was, however, accepted, first by General
Epanchin himself, secondly by the sprightly lady, the old man,
Ferdyshtcheriko, and after tliem by the rest. Totsky too took
his glass, hoping to modify the novel tone of the company by
giving it as far as possible the character of pleasant playfulness.
Only Ganya drank nothing.

Nastasya Filippovna had taken a glass of champagne, and
declared that she would drink three that evening. It ^vas diffi-
cult to understand her strange and at times abrupt and sudden •
salfies, her h\ ^rical and causeless laughter, altematine,

137

that she suspected

seemed expecting sometWn^ f ^ she too

Jpr“ auS^^ ““

“lue, out very murh Tho+> — T ^Fiiguuy jaay.
up m my cloak,” repliS Naste^^RI-^ ^ wrapped myself
turning pale and se4ed at^^t5^'^Pr°^’ ^^ally was
shiver. “mes tiymg to suppress a violent

, -sS-t mT.?”™ hof,” “* -pv^ent.

^'’?:^^^"°^°™vitch. Totskj^ looking at

especially to-day.‘" ^nSIsv^ ^ your presence

j ^Snificant* emphasis "^^PPovna observed suddenly,

Mon^w ?tTbf Se"“S S"’

'wth meaning General .^or words seemed

ehMged glances once mor^ rl^ Epanchm and Totskv ex-
,, would be a good thinir to t-witched convulsively,
the spnghUy lady,^ ® P’^J' some pctit-jeu/' obs&ved

VMiat was It?" ....i.-j .,

. /'A party of us

suddenly ^=en drinking,

had ?nn^' thl tabt*^® fuggesUon that ead

worst o?%lT''‘‘’‘"S that he lSse]Vt°“^'^ something he
hon^uJ ^ '^'^tions of S honesUy considered the

P°>‘ut, K S’ r to be done

t^oicuious idea ’ -am t , .

' '‘'SrlnSl} °l ~ ^ understand it^

ritch.”‘'“"P" tliat was just what we wanterl Ar
'^‘it such a

"But such a pciit-'P . ^^^y

uo,TS1 fanuS'

• B^cn-one certainly did tell some-

tiling- many of them told aSar£

some of them positively enpycd^.t^^^^^ On the whole,

everyone was ashamed, they course.

though, it was very amusing.^ ^ observed Nastasya

••It really would be oteorvea U

So one is

&,o ao1.,''»,PS - cou.. u up. It -' -

awfully original, anyivay. Pcrdyshtciienko. j:j

••If s a stroke of genius 1 “<Vc'U cast lots, as W’e did

excluded, however; "^^n nu^^ beg doesn’t want ^

then. We most— we must If y disagreeable. Thro^

course he needn’t; but % 3 ^en; the prince shal dmw

your lots into my *^,,^'1101^0 describe the wo’^f

vr^tuinfr rould bc simpler mw. gentlemeni

•he idea seemed a very , g^yly. Some prov«

Id it. Some frowned, some lot,

but faintly; I^^^T^'^novnr and noticed how ^fl^ote s e
oppose Nastasya Fihpp - ijj,ply because it -was s ^

b^lhis ?tane= SJ^ovna u-as

almost impossible. Nastas> . ^d expressed a a^sir ,
and inconsiderate when j" ^1 no benefit 1 ° her. ^

tliough it were the ven^t capnee, o^ "P^^°r dark

she seemed hysterical, ra uneasy P^oteste.

and violently, espeaally , .j Hosh on her uossibly

eyes glittered, there was o Je<dic '

dejected and disguste piny the game. ijer,

special obgd

IT Vet

people the prospec ladies?”

f if U-s something, one can’t tell • • •

Wha giient youth timidly. plenty of wicked acbons
observed the sn > ^ are Acb, you young

without that, ^ consider the worst,

people I v,hich of my acbons I

p„';S.spri 6 bttylady.

FerdyshtcheSo; ‘S^o3y JoS t£%br

their own inspiration wiil bp obligation: anything of

wblti^of too'^Ltv^^

Ganya. "And if I I shan't teU lies?” inquired

^cy, gentJemen," Ferdvqhfrh*^^J'^°’^^ action as it is. But fus

think tvith S tS “ Tl.f"’ h>4to.

jssss r -‘^h^

. ■vZ?Sf,X!‘ S'SdTf '

■■t tit'i '”'" “ «4h“ s ' 1

bSed> T ““■', " S”” I’s^M'y “f y””

arsir"''*^^

2?^, pSSv^““l' l'’“0'’tclir'

my thievinp^^^’ observing that T ^oipnse me! Only
bints SfsuhH 'f it hke 'S'

It would have^l^' ^ could^t Ivanovitch

perhaps he Jo bad form to have have stolen (for

very well have convinced that^w' T though

ness. The lobs Fut to buoJn ^^^‘iy^tchenko may

Ivano\dtch- so if '^°bected and you’ve nnf^’ ^™^®nien, to busi-
Without 'i'J® bas refined pSf ' *°0' Afanasy

?« lot he pT4 *’*"'1 '■

tho-a GeoOTl EpttdSW ‘Ijeokp-s.

SSlSr '®FS.SL£.‘r »S a. tat „a B.e

the sixth Ganj^a’s, and so on. The ladies had not put in lots,

^ "Good heavens, what a misfortune!" cried Ferdyshtchenko.
"I tliought tliat the first would bo the prince, and then the
general. But, thank God, Ivan Pctrovitch comes after me, and
I shall be rewarded. Well, gentlemen, I am bound of course
to set a good example; but wliat I regret most of all at tliis
rnoment is that I am a person of no consequence and not
distinguished in any way — not even of decent rank. Of what
interest is it to anyone Uiat Fcrdyshtclienko should have done
sometliing horrid? And what is my worst action? There’s an
embarras dc richessc. Shall I tell of tlic same tlicft again, to
convince Afanasy Ivanovitch that one may steal without being
a llucf? "

"You are also convincing me, Mr. Ferdyshtchenko, that it's
possible to enjo}', even to revel in describing one's nasty actions,
even though one is not asked about tliem. But . . . Excuse me,
Mr. Ferdyshtchenko."

"Begin, Ferdyshtchenko, you are chattering too much and
ttill never finish," Naslas5'a Filippovna insisted, with irritable
impatience.

Evcrj'onc noticed tliat after her hysterical laughter she had
suddenly become actually ill-humoured, peevish and irritable;
yet slio persisted obstinate!}' and imperiously in her wild caprice.
Afanasy Ivanovitch ras horribly uncomfortable. He was
furious too at Ivan Fyodorovitch, who sat sipping champagne,
as though there were nothing the matter; perljaps reckoning on
telling something when his turn came.

CHAPTER XIV

" T’VE no •wit, Nastasya Filippovna, that’s what makes me talk
Itoo much,” cried Fcrd5'shtchenko, beginning his story. “If
I were as witty as Afanasy Ivanovitch or Ivan Pctrovitch, I
should have sat still and held my tongue to-night, like Afanasy
Ivano-vitch and Ivan Pctrovitch. Prince, let me ask you, what
do you think? Don’t you think that there are many more men
in the world thieves than not thieves, and that there isn't a man
in the world so honest that he has never once in his life stolen
anything? That's my idea, from which I don't conclude, how-
ever, that aU men are thieves; though, goodness knows, I’ve
often been tempted to. What do you think?”

"Ugh! how stupidly you tell your story I" commented the

141

. T' P'i”’®- h«“° S S?/” SSh™7

Jifr. FerdvshtJ^h^^f.'^'^^ What youiself?"

P*rt°“ S'™ I'f® P™® in toSaV * P“”*’

, "FnrdShtiR?'™ “»PPed oSS * “» >* «™

■ivanovitch’s villa-iT l-', °«orelast nn» o ^ ^ to

‘0 ask the daughtS their ^finJ t,™’ ^-fter dinner

t° play the piLI ' t tady called occurred to me

Matya Ivanovna’s through the Semyonovna,

roubles. She must h % a !reen^^ Oa

Jt^fewasnoone inSfJ^ it “°te for three

pocket, what fnr t -^ooni. I took tfio housekeeping.

Only 1 laMv" a ™ • f >■■ WWan,'^"* “f J"‘ « » 4

SS; 'a’--P5C“4 Lr ?« -ioS

r T rttr I never asked for a
I xvent in and tiskcd for a bottle of
Kutethnl, by I JSn'ctoc S «-» tim'."”

1 Wt no rt”lf,,fitRain, certainly, you may baba'’
since. Ishouldn f . Well, tbat’s all- ever

not, as you like, I ‘f®" tint's not the worst thing y

"But there’s no jj ‘ ^a. with aversion. „ . .^rved

done," said Darj'a incident, not an action,

"That's a pathological mcidcn

Totsky. t?" asked Nastasya Fihppo'^'' ’

"And the servant? ashcai

"'?'Th= ” 'inmal away next day. »

'•■S'iToJTn^My i have gone -d

SAaie STaS^y hi, stony.

"VtTiy. yo“}''^'';,Sliantl A man’s woret ac^

ri‘5

ownc^age.^A ,.^rried away, and flew into

means? - • • , „ fact, was quite ra overstepping all

Ferdyshtchcnko,,in forgc«i".e,^f“. Strange as?f seems,

t whole face tivitchcdwi ^ ^^ggrent reception of his

bounds, his n expected ^i special sort of bragging,

T?« emis of tf'/ .%Tve.y frequently '.ritb
had called it, bis character.

FCTdvsScnko, and ""^'^vely quivered with fury and look^

^'^NStinwa Filipp°'’"f P?^ He was instantly quelled and re-

■ t^nllv at Ferdyshtchenk g^pg ^po f^.

1 silence, almost g, ,, -pp^slcj' asbed artfully-

^^^'^adn’twebett«mak^^^ exemption and sba

"“"Don’t you in fact I look upon 5 ^

"I can t, Nas X gsbon. T-i-non-

a fVlSieve it’s your turn," saidKastasva F^PP"

•‘Generah l^^gin. off you refuse, too, you will tw«

turn' 143

and I s|)aj] i

^ KS. t/r'i '-"'H.. -I
SS™- :. •'■ “ ““ ’ '=■“ ™”

MMdote," Fertv 1°"',/”“'’' "■'

than ever at her Dro Totstrv*^ JrntabiHt^i' were

"but ft'c %t vere no"“*: “ ‘^yeo^one,

actions in^n"PP/«ed rne,

''^“t it's staigo '’‘^^’iSrttv

d^enbe direetJv afn ^‘^Sard Oie^bri^f • tJic general;

tlnrty.five ycara -,^ ‘^‘"‘-cst action in L "'^>'ch I'JJ

r ^y. ^ ncTr e ca^^’ «Jntosf

however. l ^vas at fif an cxIkJ^i^ heart,

my way up in the ^ ‘ a business,

;^young blood «’e ab w-as working

orderly in Uiose dS^^f °"' a rniseAh “ heufenant

my be^if. ug 1^® Nikifor v.-ho^ ^ had an

Q ° y ^Sht and left an’wl?-"'^' ®^*bbed and ^"^“Py zealous on
^ ^P^ekeeping Mp he could lav hi and even

fc??,^I^'tOefown.’T''!!^iP®^: We baraJoi,!? man. I

Stay for some

]n fhr» -r

this day, but there was no one else could have done it. We
quarrelled over the cock — quarrelled in earnest; and it happened
that as soon as I asked, I was transferred to other quarters, to a
suburb the other side of the town, in the house of a merchant
with a large family and a big beard, as I remember him. Nikifor
and I were delighted to move. I left the old lady indignantly.
Three days later I came in from drill and Nikifor informed me:
‘We were wrong, your honour, to leave our bowl at our old
lady’s; I have nothing to put the soup in.’ I was surprised, of
course. .‘How so? How was it the bowl was left behind?’
Nikifor, surprised, went on to report that when we were leaving
the landlady had not given him our bowl, because I had broken
her pot; that she had kept our bowl in place of her pot, and that
she had pretended I had suggested it. Such meanness on her
part naturally made me furious; it would make any young
officer's blood boil. I leapt up and flew out. I was beside
myself, so to say, when I got to the old woman’s. I saw her
sitting in the passage, huddled up in the comer all alone, as
though to get out of the sun, her cheek propped on her hand.
I poured out a stream of abuse, calling her all sorts of names,
you know, in regular Russian style. Only there seemed some-
thing strange as I looked at her: she sat with her face tamed to
me, her eyes round and staring, and answered not a word. And
she looked at me in such a queer way, she seemed to be sway-
ing. At last I calmed down. I looked at her, I questioned her —
not a word. I stood hesitating: flies were buzzing, the sun was
setting, there was stillness. Completely disconcerted, I walked
away. Before I got home I was summoned to the major’s; then
I had to go to the company, so I didn’t get home till it was quite
evening. Nikifor’s first words were: 'Do you know, your honour,
that our landlady is dead?’ ‘When did she die?’ ‘Why, this
evening, an hour and a half ago.’ So that at the very time I was
abusing her, she was passing away. It made such an impression
on me that, I assure you, I couldn't get over it. The thought of
it haunted me; I dream of it at night. I am not superstitious,
of course, but two days after I went to church to the ftmeral. In
fact, as time goes on it seems to haunt me more. Not that it
haunts me exactly, but now and then one pictures it and feels
vmcomfortable. I’ve come to the conclusion that the sting of it
lies in this. In the first place, it was a woman — so to speak, a
fellow-creature, a humane creature, as they call it nowadays.
Shehadli\ T 'HW a long life, lived too long. At one time she
had had • ' \husband, family and relations — all this

jUl at oaci" araptarbl^; “ to ^lifo hot; aad then

on a qmet summer evcnint J, ^ sun was =et-

I^?pSll5SS

isIgiSfeSSiSi'S

tTO inSmhl M W]. fifteen Patliologfcal.

last £vs^? t '™™en in the aSh,l ^ ^

I think^ of teSuitete existence ^ coSrfaW^^

charity. \{?3 sum of money

done wrone in ^ .about it. ^ permanent

honestly consMpl^^"^ things in my ^ ^ave

••A.rSSd 7 ,,;™to‘ «tio „7 ■’“ tois iacitot I

"Yes, geneS 'f Ferdyshtchenko,”

SSi?;. ' a sotai heart

a„?°iS:' , tor. .. „a.a .,

_ ^ut n was Totsl-v’eT “e sipped hie r-h\ “'‘“uju iaugo,
Fvenmne Sought hVZ h^'^^^Sne.

and even-one for r "’ould not r? P^pared liimself.

cariosity' at M reasons luv ’ refuse,

"^s'sL::r' - ^ss“

r- to Wins

s i a ^-teScSss.;- s!

1 ' 4 j : SSL?”', a m 5 e’&"“ ,a”.i

.ahj^„™'“s rt„y ch^tfto aad rtraing grey.

and well fake teeth. He

"■“to Lis e£.k''5S„T“L assl. a"”? .

«».a „„d “rl=“,tote teett He

'vas alwaj-s

Send

“ii ae whdle he was t*| «s^.

In.- Then left hand. She dido t even

■■is the nteotate obligation of d^h „ conscience

of my life. In ‘^i“^'“c2te at once what one rn^t

and the prompting of the heart the innumerable,

ten. I eSnfess with kf Sns of my life there is

perhaps frivolous and thougimcss

Ine the impression of h^ ^ I ,vas s a^ng

mind. It happened ^eng y been

then in the country ^ j had come down with his young

SeSed marshal of nobihty and had l^oUdays there

wife, Anfisa Alexeyevna to ^

Ti irat; a few days before her ^ Dumas fils, La

aSed At t4t time that chi^mS "ovol >

Sn? aux Camaias’, was m_ “e ^ jfs ^ work which, m
fust making a "ined lo'die orl^rnish with age. In fte

Stotion of the Pnnej)^

nnalvsed SO subtly, and an nosegays or wnite

X‘n“ I—

yS/“ Il«w“na"® frX V'

^vVipther he had any re^ B Alexeyevna by the nigm

w2 cSzy to get a visitor from Petersburg

of the ball. The Sofya Bezpalov were,

staving the gove . ^^^h nosegays of white ones.

'I'aS «l4“<4a taged to Cirate a special sensation with re

was tlie husband. He promL fT''" disfracted-of couisc he
'vhaf do you tliink? On Procure the flowers* knd

of (he ball they rS
^c.xcyevna in evm'Uiin^ Tff"' •'* rival ofAnCm

SSPS

,s^sa5:#S!Ss!

of OrdxTitsev’s ^ h!? ‘'ladame 7 evening before

jb Euickal’ nVen ‘What k

How? ' 'At V 1 f '• 'I’y boy x-ou T,! ‘ ^ ^°“nd

our district ^ bttle town

called Seialov*'' r ^ "’‘^''chant of tbf oM’^U

I won't £0 grovel

2 ^ — cujncii

athirfeeS^r^^'^'”^' ''^ 'ah'aji'K And what if
you goinel” 't^ does. I won't eo iwt ^ knees and grovel
good lucf’to daybreak at'h* ’t* ,‘'''^cn arc

account. I went bar ^'^ow 'j Jj, ° ‘^/°ck.’ ‘Well,
back to tlie Ordynfeevc’ o Ploascd on his

. T . OnA 1. -X f .

accounri ^eiirbackl""’. knoT'l'^ eh

came and, you k-nm^^ 1° Oedynfeex's’ n ° Pleased on his
go to bed, when ^ still ?'’c 0 clock at night

made my way to a very onVin?i”^“^ ^ rocant to

gave hii^ SL rn^,K,^'‘'='^cn. I xvS "’C. I

half an hour.’ Half^^l ^’^'d: 'Jef ' ^c coachman,

‘he gate. AnfisaAlnv ‘^ter, of co„«^ ‘^e horses in

"-as feveri^and niv .*^^cx'na, I ^as toM i, ' ®‘'^dge was at
o'clock I xras at Vet"!”*?"- I got i^aJl k ^‘groine; she
and onlv till davbrent!’^*^’ die inn T j®: l^efore five

I said this and feat an,i '°'"cn o'cWi. /^'‘cd till dax'break,

gpod kind sir h^fl’ ^^ed: ‘Havn^/ ^ Trcpalov's.

The oM TV, ’ clp me, save rv,„i t ? you any camninicS nr..

The old min aghed.

Ld expenses tliere/ ‘Well,, that. ^jeasjng to

God I mil prescni. uia*. j that oiQ j\u^:5*c.*x,

last easn w’as sobbing on mv lawful matnmon> .

5:S=:ss:rtsi»;fflsr=

!ri'v=»Stri.*sS5S

but what delirious, and next <iay ^

later, as soon as , romance. K e , Stepan

Caucasus. « turned out quite time lus trover, bt^P^^

killed in the of a regiment; he had

Vorho y fS'JricL of con^^^f St Sm S a

'afVertvards Whyjvim ^ ^,f Sa^rno^ng

he bad hegVoi^SSS“o??a's eyes and

set- pVsfSs»?-

her lips they have cheated!

Feray*tch»^,^„k, i„ , lachrymose

Th coS cd "t ^ -“^Ser> You

''“■Xn” »to» Alexeyevna

chniild learn from these

an

«•" T«j, Jn-v. , .j, . ,

. ;Von nr,: j- ; > — i-^PP'-d flue .'si.moiJ

•'lilclJctlH I.-:..'. ' ' ■ "* ’P If II •■i.m’:". 'V'’* P'f'liprKjrat

«™„v, • «” -1 „ „

iVince." V-,-.. , r>.’ ,Ml K'vn;s4

^'•'■pf^cirdlv (n ,

.%inchirr axKj Af-lV ‘ •'”' ''»'>• Jld '7'!!-! .-^’'‘/I'V 3 'kJ fin-

«V, I wi!! d„ ‘‘ l5.‘inll I iv mamVd.

Afni,n,v Iv.'.novr, - K'"

Jj-vcn^onc Mdrivi ’ ,‘‘ ’''‘'iX'I rdf o
Ilic jrjou •■'”‘1 f-rr.ncj ='* K-->'-f.d n-.ir, iKlnf;^!.

•4'^ V • lo v,hon,>- ,,. '

"■rat M M 'fc ;I,";;''ra«fira^ ™nnc •.,»„.

if ”:'v' *£” si".'‘'A' ™“-

, *N*nf> . * ‘^inc au’ftji t P‘^“^nincc a W'ii

painAii;? ‘ J-.-fn.’'' t- -w ■ ’ *

him^° '* iH-'tllrn r» ” "‘^^">'*'<1 fit list, wi

2diP°'^SS “ nddr<-d

'5 » v„i„.

distressed vn, ®*^f?ri’cd "\vt "'cnf on t i •

faltcrinV ■-'. ^ -owpset? And how

^>Sht have ^ 2 dc‘ a’l^‘''PPovna,'' To'sV,. h a

racb i

^ «nde'?Jda„'^J\";oH-in/!'"^ the“honoi!rTnd

• Tn <Vip first olacc, what do
don’t know what you not in tlie company

you mean by 'before peep . ^ pdit-jeu? 1
of dear and inUmate 1 hLe told it. Isn t h a

meant to tell rny “gav that it’s not serious? Isn t

nice one? And why d y ^ prince : ‘As you - y>

this serious? You heard say to t P consent

it shall be.’ Hadhe^d Yes,lwovi^^^^_ Isn’t that serious?
at once. But he said glance. What could be more

My whole life was hangi g k a what

serious?” whaPs the prince to do with it? And wlmt

J WliUlU U1.V> — w - A J Kn{-

••BS't’he prince-whays geSem? almost" un'Ible

is the Pinncc after all? mu offensive authority given
to restrain lus indignation at me

.IK prince to

srpto to » “rsic “r.o’srsi

“Pnfter the seventy-nvc uiuu ^ to say uia

Hllppovna broUo i" „eant to “five

I’U lorsSSto’^ .fid. ;f 0 baj

Ivanovitch, I assure you that I set j three

thousand, and let m dav is my birthday,

2'oXl‘®To:n.»now.ane^^^^^^^^^

SocLm «a‘

Se‘S ro a. .b»»8b sfie «eant to fio

...... rtoppovn.r»»fie.tfi

"Nastasya FilipP°

on all sides. excitement, nh msc ^ ^ ^let impetuous,

he? All had listened

surrounded her. I" one could make it out. At

“‘ot" “

tXafi b" '» “ir

Pat3jTi®inuttered‘^titi^“jJ;^‘^ thousand, not a doubt of iti”

A-C-K

K'^^G^^dSL^kn^wrwht'.®:^^

dozen men have broLif^-'^ “^tter, Nastasya Fih'p

know ” ^ hi. They say iTs £ ^

'Th. H • t. y -^y It s Rogozhm, and that you

^em a, ^

■■1« U>m\uf"Sv ’‘^'>-^^ing!^‘ ^i“PI»™a?

S°d iu con^S^;; h^pTSd

of cour^ °"®^ot to be my witnesspc o+ anaous you

SS“C“ ■■ “* “”■■

SkfiSF- 1« i' ^ SSiv' J2''i'i »■”> "><i

R%po?n^^"&edbSSnd this had been

he turned from ^^^^’tainiy gone out of her ^^^lough Nastasya
of curiositv p “tendon now Fvpr, ^o_ could not
alarmed ^ besides, there was lio nn ^as in agom’es
Ale«r* were only likely to be

life aMTo^^ spnghtly lady who\^? ™ party: Daiya
handsome but Pat out o/r^" seamy side of

hardly have stranger. But '^°™tenance, and tlie

who had nnf- ?'^®“tood what was nn ^ant stranger could
RussiS h’og been in RSa^H°!‘ was I German
She w^ a^l^t"^®®®dto hnew not a word of

as a novelty and it had be^oS handsome.

I 2 me a fashion to invite her to

certain .yseat\er in the drawing-room ^ a

though for a show, and to times borrow from their

charming decoration, ]ust as p P . . ^ statue, a vase, or a

friends for a special occasion a pmtu^^,^ instance, was a fnend

fire-screen. As for the men, 3^' element. Ganya

of Rogozhin’s. Ferdyslitchenko ^ ^ ^ irresishble

could not recover hmiself, V^t ^ “ tlie end^ The old teacher,
impulse to stay out his x was going forward, ivas

who had only a dim notion , ^th fear, notiang an
almost in tears and hterally Nastasya Fihppovna,

exceptional agitation around y grandchild. Bu

whom he adored as though f « ^\^^Je^eSrtld her at such a
he would sooner have died th^ not have cared

moment. As for Totsky, 'hires; but he was too much

to compromise himself by sue taking such a crazy

interested in the matter, thoug dropped two or three .
Moreover. Nastasya could not go home hU

for his benefit, which made -esoived to remain to
the matter was cleared up- g^ing himself to

and to keep perfectly silent, con ^

which indeed was the oidy . uggn offended by tire

General Epanchin, who had y j ^ present, might of eou -
ceremonious and ridiculous re eccentricities, or pf P

teel still more insulted by Ws position had mde^

by the entrance of :tgne down by the side of ^

demeaned himself too f^ by , niuch passion OTg

and Ferdyshtchenko. For, °'^®’^‘^°^®m^rtance

fluence him, it might well at ^ rom-

of obligation, by a feehng Rogozhin and hm com

and sif-resppet generally! fn the presence of his

panions were 'in any case

“•Sf Benen.1,” Nastasjja Bat.

once, as soon as he made ta® Btfs such^ o ^nce

believe me, I had bought ^7 though I am "'^ery
to you, I won’t insist on heep ^ at this moment. In ^
to have you pa^eularly b^id^ friendship and flattermg
I thank you very much for y g

but if you are afraid . • _.yna. ” cried the gf^era ^ ,
"Allow me, Nastasya Mipp ’ saying there

of chivalrous feeling. .T^^arafyo^ side now, andff ^eje

from devotion to you I will r^ain^^^y ^^fess I am extremely

is any danger. . • • Besiu ,

intcrcslcd. I only meant to say Uiat they will spoil your carpets
and perhaps break something. . . . And you ought not to see
them at all, to my thinking, Nastasya Filippovna."

"Rogoahin himself," Fcrdyshlchenko announced.

"What do you think, Afahasj' Tvanovitch,” the general man-
aged to wliispcr to him in haste, "hasn't she taken leave of her
senses? I mean not allegorically, but in the literal, medical
sense. Eh?"

'Tve told you that she's always bicn disposed tliat way,"
Totsky whispered slyl3'.

"And she is in a fever too. . . ."

Rogozliin vas accompanied bj' almost the same followers as
in the afternoon. There were only two additions to the com-
pany : one a worthless old man, once Uic editor of a disreputable,
libellous paper, of whom the story went that for drink he had
once pawned his false teeth; and a retired sub-lieutenant, tlio
rival bj' trade and calling of tlic gentleman witli the fists. He was
utterly unknown to all Rogozhin's party, but had been picked
up in tlie street on the sunny side of the Nevsky Prospect, where
he used to stop the passers-by, begging assistance in the language
of Mariinsky, sl3’ly alleging that he used to give away as much
as fifteen roubles at once in his bme. The two rivals at once took
up a hostile attitude to one anoihcr. The gentleman with the
fists considered himself affronted by this addition to the party.
Being silent by nature, he merely growled at times like a bear
and with profound contempt looked at the tricks by which his
rival, who turned out to be a man of the world and a diplo-
matist, tried to ingratiate himself and win favour. The sub-
lieutenant promised, to judge by appearances, more skill and
dexterity "at work” tlian strength, and he was shorter than tite
fisted gentleman. Delicatcl}- and without entering into open com-
petition, though he boasted shockingly', he hinted several times
at the superiority of English boxing. He seemed, in fact, a
thorough-going champion of Western culture. The fisted gentle-
man only smiled contemptuously and huffily, not deigning to
contradict his rival openty, though at times he showed him
silentty, as though by chance, or rather moved into the fore-
ground a thoroughly national argument — a huge, sinewy',
gnarled fist covered with a sort of reddish down. It was made
perfectly clear to everyone that, if this truly national argument
were accurately brought to bear on any subject, it would reduce
it to pulp.

Thanks to the efiorts of Rogozliin, who had all day long been

154

looking forward to his visit to Nastasya Filippovna, none of the
party were completely drunk. He Mmself was by now nearly
sober, but almost stupefied wth the number of sensations he had
passed through in that chaotic day, that was unlike anything he
had experienced in his life before. One thing only had remained
constantly in his mind and his heart at every minute, every
instant. For tire sake of that one thing he had spent the whole
time between five o’clock in the afternoon and eleven o’clock
at night in continual misery and anxiety, worrying, with ICinders
and Biskups, Jews and moneylenders, who were driven almost
distracted too, rushing about like mad on his errands. They
had, anyway, succeeded in raising the hundred thousand
roubles, of which Nastasya Filipporaa had mockingly dropped
a passing and quite vague hint. But the mone}' had been lent
at a rate of interest of wliich even Biskup himself did not venture
to speak to Knder above a bashful whisper.

As in the afternoon, Rogozhin stepped forward first; the rest
followed liim, somewhat uneasy, though fully conscious of their
advantages. What they were most frightened of — goodness
knows why — was Nastasya Filippovna. Some of them almost
e.\pected that they would all be promptly “kicked downstairs’’;
and among these was tlie dandy and lady-killer Zalyozhev. But
others — and the fisted gentleman was conspicuous among them —
cherished at heart profound though unspoken contempt, and
even hatred, for Nastasya Filippovna, and had come to her house
as though to take it by storm. But tlie magnificence of tlie first
two rooms, the articles they had never seen or heard of before,
the choice furniture and pictures, and the life-size statue cf
Venus, roused in tlrem an overwhelming sentiment of respect
and almost of fear. Tliis did not, however, prevent them all
from gradually crowding with insolent curiosity into tire drawing-
room after Rogozhin. But when the fisted gentleman, his rival,
and some of the others noticed General Epanchin among the
guests, they were for the first moment so crestfallen that they
positively beat a retreat to the other room. Lebedyev, however,
was among the more fearless and resolute, and he stepped for-
ward almost beside Rogozhin, having grasped the true signifi-
cance of a fortune of a million four hundred thousand, a hundred
thousand of it in hard cash. It must be observed, however, that
all of them, even the knowing Lebedyev, were a little uncertain
of the precise limits of their powers and did not know whether
they were really able to do just as they liked or not. Lebedyev
was ready to swear at certain moments that they were, but at

155

other moments he felt uneasily impelled to remind himself of
several pre-eminently cheering and reassuring articles of the legal
code.

On Rogozliin himself Nastasya Filippovna made a very
different impression from that produced on his companions. As
soon as the curtain over the door \vas raised and he saw her,
cverytliing else ceased to exist for him, as it had that morning,-
and even more completely than it had that morning. He turned
pale, and for an instant stopped short. It might bo conjectured
that his heart was beating violently. He gazed for some seconds
timidly and desperately at Nastasya Filippovna nitliout talcing
his eyes off her. Suddenly, as though lost to all reason, almost
staggering as he moved, he went up to the table. On the way
he stumbled against Ptitsjm's chair and trod with his huge dirty
boots on the lace trimmings of tlie dumb German beauty’s
magnificent light blue dress. He did not apologise, and indeed
he did not notice it. He laid on tlie table a strange object, which
he was holding before liim in both hands when he entered the
drawing-room. It was a thick roll of paper, six inches thick and
eight inches long, stoutly and tightly wrapped up in a copy of
the Financial News, tied round and round and twice across 'vith
string, as loaves of sugar are tied up. Then he stood still wthout
uttering a word and let his hands fall, as though awaiting his
sentence. He was dressed exactly as before, except for a new
bright red and green silk scarf round liis neck, a huge diamond
pin in the form of a beetle stuck in it, and a massive diamond
ring on a finger of his grubby right hand.

Lebedyev stopped short three paces from tlie table; the others,
as I have said, were gradually making their way into the
drawing-room. Katya and Pasha, Nastasya Filippovna's maids,
had run up too to look under the lifted curtain in great amaze-
ment and alarm.

“What’s this?” asked Nastasya Filippovna, scanning
Rogozhin intently and curiously and glancing towards "the
object”.

"A hundred thousand!” answered Rogozhin almost in a
whisper.

"Ah, so he’s kept his word ! What a man I Sit down, please,
here on tip chair; I shall have something to say to you later,
yiffio is pth you? All the same party? Well, let them come
m and sit down; they can sit on that sofa and this other sofa
here. Here are tw'o arm-chairs. . . . What’s the matter with
them, don’t they want to?”

Some of tlicm were “ ^ the other

fusion; they beat a ^^slt dmvn as they were invited,

room. But others . i_ -^d for the most part in out-

only rather farther ^em shll %vished to efface thm-

of-the-tray corners. Some ot me incredible

selves, but others regm „ ^ ^qo sat dovm on the chair

rapidity, as time went on Rogo/mn

assigned liim. but he eJs he began to scrutinise and

did not sit down again. he smiled malignantly

distinguish the visitors. j»^He gazed at the general

and whispered to interest. But when he

and Totsky wathout shyn^ or sp^ ^,,as extremely

noticed Myslikm beside N^tasya mi pp ^ he

amazed and could not ‘L^^ace. It may well have been

seemed at a loss to actual delirium. Besides tlie "violent

that he was at moments m actua deun ^he

emotions he had gone I . ^ hcen^ost forty-eight hours

previous night in the tram and had been au

ivithout sleep. , , xt,„„coTid roubles,” said Nastasya

■This, friends, is a hundred tboi^ud^^^^^^^ fevensh,

Filippovna, addressing ^Wundle. This afternoon he
impatient defiance, m t^s h^ would bring me a hundred
shLed like a 4 “ecting'him

thousand tliis evening, and ^ eighteen, then he suddenly

He was bidding for me : g his hundred here. He s

passed at one bound to forty, Md ^ happened at

E5 hb word! Fool tow P^' ' jj’ „,o,tor a v;|t m

Ganya's this afternoon. J ^£ 5 . fhouted in my face. Won t

^ ■ --me, and there his s st^ sn her

uanyas uus u-iiv *---- ckter shoutea in lay

my future home, and there his ^he spat m her

they turn this shamcle^ creaturaou

brother Ganya s face. 'Vfneral Epanchin articulated

••Nastasya Filippovna I General f

reproachfully. ,i„rcinnd the situation in his o\to "way-

He was beginmng to understan improper? Bet s give

“ W's the matter, general? it ^JP hox at the French

theatre like an have been pursuing me for the

like a %vild thing Bom proud innocence-it was all

last five years, arid wore . P presence he has come m

lrpS»”i"a tooted tLostod. Gaoya, I sao you a,= a_

angiy with me. Could you really have meant to make me one
of 5'our family? Me, Rogozhin’s woman? What did the prince
say just now?” . -

"I didn't say you were Rogozhin’s. You don’t belong to
Rogozhin,” LIyshkin articulated in a shaking voice.

‘‘Nastasya Filippovna, give over, my dear, give over,
darling,” Darya Alexeyevna said suddenly, unable to restrain
herself. "If they make you so miserable, why think about
them? And can you really mean to go ofi with a fellow like
that, even for a hundred thousand? It’s true it’s a hundred
thousand, that’s something. You take the hundred thousand
and send him about his business; that’s the way to treat them.
Ech ! if I were in your place I’d send them ah . . . upon my
word!”

Darj'a Alexeyevma was moved to positive anger. She was a
very good-natured and impressionable woman.

"Don’t be angry, Darya Alexeyevna,” Nastasya Filippovna
laughed to her. "I did not speak to him in anger. Did I
reproach him? I simply can’t imderstand what folly possessed
me to want to enter an honourable family. I’ve seen his mother;
I kissed her hand. And the pranks I played at your fiat this
afternoon, Ganya, were on purjrose to see for the last time how
far you could go. You surprised me, really. I expected a good
deal, but not that. Would you actually have married me, know-
ing that he was giving me such pearls almost on the eve of your
wedding and I was accepting them? And Rogozhin! Why, in
3'our home, in the presence of your motlier and sister, he was
bidding for me; and even after that you came here to make
a match of it and nearly brought your sister! Can Rogozhin
have been right when he said that you’d crawl on all fours to the
other end of Petersburg for three roubles?”

"Yes, he would too ! ” Rogozhin brought out suddenlj', speak-
ing quietly, but with an air of profound conviction.

"It would be a diSerent matter if you were starving, but I am
told you get a good salary. And, apart from the disgrace and
ever^hing else, to think of bringing a wife you hate into your
house (for you do hate me, I know &at) ! Yes, now I do believe
that such a man would murder anyone for money! Everyone
is possessed with such a greed nowadaj’s, they are all so over-
whelmed by the idea of money that they seem to have gone mad.
The very children take to moneylending! A man winds silk
round his razor, malces it firm, comes from behind and cuts his
friend s throat like a sheep’s, as I read lately. Well, j'ou are

158

, shameless £e.,ow, ^ ,

dear "I -"t ‘» r \TaSagr

Biyieddettci day; lTO^ this «.o.».e»r ««*

Alpxcvevna. do you see xini ,,

cameUas? There he ^its laug^ng at^ . . •

-I am not laughmg.

wth the greatest attenhom ^tsk^^ and

“Why have I been tormenting ought

not letting him go? Was he w^h ■ ! He 'S

to be Most likely Je reckons i ^ and

too. He gave me education, h P looked me out a

the monej'— the money in tliose days, and now

respectable husband m ,. i have not lived witli him

GaSya here; and, would f Ws money and thought
for the last five years, and yet , i.,, igjt to all sense 1 You

I had a right to ! I’ve been so complete J

say, take the hundred Jiousand and gtnd niarried long

And it really is homd. . . . I .^ould have been ]ust

ago, and not to Ganya ^thej but to ,■}

as horrid too. And why have I wasted > ^

. _ 1 VvpIipVR it. four years . .«MfnOrhtr

"L“iyr"s:it’=^»? »3‘ 1” ¥S^ht he wviotth

him=elf. But afterivards, thank God, i tncmg ^y^gn

such anger 1 And 1 suddenly married him. And

that if he had besought me, 1 wouldn t have m n

for the last five years I’ve been keepmg ^ th

better be in my proper place, m the streets 1 to-morrow.

' Nashya ‘

ISO

am a candid person,” interposed Ferdyshtchenko; "but the
prince would take you. You sit here and complain, but you
should look at the prince. I’ve been watching him a long time."
Nastasya Filippovna turned with curiosity to Myshkin.

‘‘Is that true?" she asked.

"It’s true,” whispered Myshkin,

"■Will you take me as I am, %vith nothing?”

"I wiU, Nastasya Filippovna.”

"Here's a new development,” muttered the general. ' 'I might
have expected it.”

Myshlun looked with a stem, mournful and penetrating gaze
into the face of Nastasya Filippovna, who was still scanning
him.

"Here’s a find!” she said suddenly, turning again to Darya
Alexeyevna. "And simply from goodness of heart, too; I know
him. I have found a benefactor! But maybe it’s true what
they say about him, that he is . . . not quite. What are you
going to Kve on if you are so in love that you, a prince, arc
ready to marry Rogozhin’s woman?”

"I am going to many an honest woman, Nastasya Filippovna,
not Rogozhin’s woman,” said Myshkin.

"Do you mean that I am an honest woman?”

"Yes.”

“Oh, all those notions . . . come out of novels! Those are
old-fashioned fancies, prince darling; nowadays the world has
growm wiser. And how can you get married? You want a nurse
to look after you ! ’ '

Myshkin got up and in a shaking timid voice, but with an air
of intense conviction, pronounced:

“I know nothing about it, Nastasya Filippovna. I’ve seen
nothing of life. You are right there, but ... I consider that
you w3l be doing me an honour, not I j'ou. I am nothing, and
you have suffered and have come pure out of that hell, and that
is a great deal.-WTiy, then, are you ashamed, and ready to go
off with Rogozhin? It’s fever. . . . You have given back
seventy thousand to Mr. Totsky and you say that you will give
up evei 3 rthing — everything here. No one here would do that.
I . . . Nastasya Filippovna ... I love you ! I would die for
you, Nastasya Filippovna ! I won’t let anyone say a word about
you. If we are poor. I’ll work, Nastasya Filippovna. . . .”

At the last word a snigger was heard from Ferdyshtchenko
and Lebedyev, and even the general gave a sort of snort of great
dissatisfaction. Ptitsyn and Totsky could not help smiling, but

i6o

controlled themselves.. The otliers simply gaped with astonish-
ment.

. . But perhaps we shan't be poor, but veiy rich, Nastasya
Filippovna,” Myslikin went on in the same timid voice. "I
don't know for certain, and I am sorry that I haven’t been able
all day to find out about it; but I had a letter from Moscow
while I was in Swtzerland, from a certain Mr. Salazldn, and he
informed me that I may receive a very large inheritance. Here
is the letter. . . ."

Myshkin did in fact produce a letter from liis pocket.

"Isn’t he ravingl” muttered the general. "This is a perfect
madhouse!”

For an instant there was dlence.

"I believe you said, prince, that the letter was from
Salazldn?” asked Ptits3m. "He is a man very well known in
his own circle: he is a very distinguished lawyer, and if it is
really he who sends you the news, you may put complete trust
in it. Fortunately I know his handwriting, for I had business
with him lately. ... If you would let me have a look at it, I
im’ght tell you.”

With a shaking hand Myshkin held out the letter without a
word.

"What now? What now?” the general cried, looking at
everybody like one possessed. "Can it really be an inheritance? ”

Everyone fi.xed their eyes on Ptitsyn as he read tlie letter.
The general curiosity had received a new and violent stimulus.
Ferdyshtchenko could not keep still; Rogozhin looked on with
amazement and great anxiety, turning his eyes from Myshkin to
Ptitsyn. Darya Alexeyevna seemed on tenter-hooks of expecta-
tion. Even Lebed3'ev could not help coming out of his comer
and bending himself into a triangle, peeped at the letter over
Ptits3m’s shoulder with the air of a man expecting a blow for
doing so.

CHAPTER XVI

"TT’S a genuine thing,” Pdts5m announced at last, folding up
Xthe letter and handing it to Myshkin. "By the uncontested
will of your aunt you will come into a very large fortune without
any difficulty.”

■ 'Impossible 1 ’ ’ the general fired off like a pistol-shot.
Everyone was agape with astonishment again.

Ptitsyn explained, addressing his remarks chiefly to General

i6i

Epanchin, that Slyshkin had five months pre\dously lost an aunt,
whom he had never kno^vn personally, the elder sister of liis
mother and the daughter of a Moscow merchant of the third
guild, called Papushin, who had died bankrupt and in poverty.
But the elder brother of this Papushin, who had also died latety,
had been a well-known rich merchant. His two only sons had
both died in the same month a year before. The shock of their
loss had led to the old man’s illness and death shortly after. He
was a widower and had no heirs in the world but his niece,
Myshkin’s aunt, who was quite a poor woman without a home
of her own. At the time she inherited the fortune she was almost
dying of dropsy, but she had at once tried to find Myshkin,
putting the matter into Salazkin’s hands, and she had had time
to make her will. Apparently neither Myshkin nor the doctor
in whose charge he was in Switzerland had cared to wait for an
official notification or to make inquiries, and the prince, with
Salazkin’s letter in his pocket, had decided to set ofi himself,
"However, I can only tell you," Ptitsyn concluded, addressing
Myshkin, “that this is certainly true and incontestable, and
everything Salazkin says to j'ou as to the authenticity and cer-
tainty of your fortune you may take as equal to hard cash in
your pocket. I congratulate you, prince ! You too will perhaps
come in for a million and a half — ^possibly more. Papushin was
a very rich merchant.”

"Bravo 1 the last of the Myshkins! ’’ yelled Ferdyshtchenko.

"Hurrah!” croaked Lebedyev in a drunken voice.

"And I lent him twenty-five roubles this morning, poor fellow !
Ha, ha, ha! It’s a fairy tale, that’s what it is,” said the general,
almost stupefied with astonishment. "Well, I congratulate you
— I congratulate you.”

And he got up and went to embrace Myshkin. The others
too rose and also pressed round Myshkin. Even those who had
retreated behind the curtain came into the drawing-room. There
was a confused hubbub of talk and exclamations, there were
even clamours for champagne; everyone was in fuK and excite-
ment. For an instant they almost forgot Nastasya Filippovna
and that she was, anyvay, the hostess. But gradually and
almost simultaneously the thought occurred to all that Myshkin
had just made an ofier of marriage. So that the position struck
them as three times as mad and extraordinary as before. Greatly
astonished, Totsky shrugged his shoulders; he was almost the
only person still sitting, the rest of the company were crowding
round the table in disorder.

162

People asserted afterwards tliat it was at this moment
Nastasya Filippovna went mad. She was still sitting down, and
for some time looked about her with a strange and wondering
gaze, as though she could not take it in and were trying to grasp
what had happened. Then she suddenly turned to Myshkin and
%vith a menacing frown stared intently at him; but that was only
for a moment: perhaps she suddenly fancied that it was aU a
joke, a mockery. But Myshkin's face reassured her. She pon-
dered, then smiled again vaguely, as though not knowng why.

"Then I am really a princess," she wliispered to herself, as it
were mockingly, and, chancing to look at Darya Alexeyevna,
she laughed. "It’s a surprising ending. . . . I . . . didn’t
expect it. . . . But why are you all standing, friends? Please
sit down. Congratulate me and the prince 1 I think someone
asked for champagne. Ferdyshtchenko, go and order it. Katya,
Pasha’’ — she suddenly caught sight of her maids in the door-
way — "come here. I am going to be married. Did you hear?
To the prince. He has a million and a half; he is Prince
Myshkin, and is marrying me.’'

"And a good thing too, my dear; it’s high time! It’s not
a chance to miss,” cried Darya Alexeyevna, tremendously
moved by what had passed.

"Sit down beside me, prince,” Nastasya Filippovna went on.
"That’s right. And here they are bringing tire wine. Congratu-
late us, friends!”

"Hurrah!” shouted a number of voices.

Many of them were crowding round the wine, and among
these were almost all Rogozhin's followers. But though they
shouted and were prepared to shout, yet many of them, in spite
of the strangeness of the circumstances and the surroundings,
realised that the situation had changed. Others were bewildered
and waited mistrustfully. Many whispered to one another that
this was quite an ordinary affair, that princes many all sorts
of women, even girls out of gipsy camps. Rogozhin himself
stood staring, his face twisted into a fixed and puzzled smile.

"Prince, my dear fellow, think what you are doing," General
Epanclun whispered -with horror, coming up sideways and pull-
ing Myshkin b3' his sleeve.

Nastasya Filippovna noticed this and laughed.

"No, general! I am a princess myself now, do you hear?
The prince won’t let me be insulted. Afanasy Ivanovitcb, j'ou
too congratulate me. I can sit down beside your wfe now
everywhere. What do you think, it’s a good bargain a husbandr-
ies . ‘ ,

.. ui-guming lor 1
away your money;

tiiM you arel” - “ — - ana x am richer

of a look

from his breast ' ^ ‘^^^Pod his hands and

_ Give her up for vnn?"

Sit “He piSped . P™«ounced

‘■“47 w'^yi^ns! . ““ « ™», U,i3

to t>e tunied^ont/° o tavern You ot at

, '^O

J^,_tlBt your wife used to li^ S ToWy'S T =""■•

-No, I shtor-t be asha„ed , "

Totsky.” • • - It wasn't your doing that
..^^you Wd> never toproacb n,e wia.

'*13* - . .

. ' rui

been abs^ird “yself very absSf ^ Hughing

oover have for^„. yi:uSy!:i‘

164 fr“tyouarenot

to blame for anything. Your life cannot be altogether ruined.
What does it matter that Rogozhin did come to j'ou and Gavril
Ardalionovitch tried to deceive you? Why vill you go on
dwelling on it? Few people would do what you have done, I
tell you that again. As for your meaning to go with Rogozliin,
you were ill when you meant to do it. You are ill now, and you
had much better go to bed. You would have gone off to be a
washer-woman next day; you wouldn’t have stayed with
Rogozhin. You arc proud, Nastasya Filippovna; but perhaps
you are so unhappy as really to tmnk yourself to blame. You
want a lot of looking after, Nastasya Filippovna. I will look
after you. I saw your portrait this morning and I felt as though
I recognised a face that I knew. I felt as though you had called
to me already. ... I sliall respect you all my h'fe, Nastasya
Filippovna.”

Myshkin finished suddenly, seeming all at once to recollect
liimself. He blushed, becoming conscious of the sort of people
in whose presence he was sa3ing this.

Ptitsyn bent his head and looked on the ground, abashed.
Totsky thought to himself: "He is an idiot, but he knows that
flattery is the best way to get at people; it's instinct!” Myshkin
noffeed too in the comer Canya’s eyes glaring at him, as &DVgh
they would ■wither him up.

"There's a kind-hearted man!” Darya Alexeye-vna pro-
nounced, much touched.

"A man of refinement, but doomed to ruin," the general
whispered in an undertone.

Totsky took his hat and was about to get up and sh'p away.
He and the general glanced at one another, meaning to leave
together.

"Thank you, prince. No one has ever talked to me like that
before,” said Nastasya Filippovna. "They’ve always been try-
ing to buy me, but no decent man has ever thought of marrying
me. Did you hear, Afanasy I-vanovitch? What did you think
of all the prince said? It was almost improper, don’t you think?

. . . Rogozhin, don’t go away yeti But you are not going, I
see. Perhaps I shall come with you after all. Where did you
mean to take me?”

"To Ekaterinhof,” Lebedyev reported from the comer.
Rogozhin simply started and gazed open-eyed at her, as though
he could not believe his senses. He was completely stupefied,
as though he had had a ■violent blow on the head.

"What are you thinking about, my dear? You really are ill.

165

senses? ” cried Daij^a Alexeyevna.

“Did you really think I meant it?” laughed Nasfncva

Fjhppovna, jumping up from the sofa. “Ruin a child £haP

“ A^asy Ivanovitch’s line: he is fond of
children! Come along Rogn^hmi 's iodq ox

Never mind about wanting t(f many me letme^h^TiT
^ the same. Perhaps I shan't you 5t“r aU Yn^
d you married me, you'd keep^^moneW \

I am a shameless hussy I I've^ been Totekv^c ^ ^

You ought to marry Aglaia Enanrhi. ^ concubine. . . .

Nastasyl Filippo^, of you’lf ha^FerJ'
the finger of at you! You mlv nnt Z f -f^u
be afraid of ruining you and of vmif a^d, but I shall
aftenvards. As for fouf sa^nt m me with it

Tofsky knows all about AnH ^ ^ honour,

Epanchin, Ganya. do l?£owf o ''I

her, wouldW id yl. kTa^fS

should make j'our choice onr^^f^r oii j- ^ yo“

respectable ones! Or you are sum women or

staring: his mouth is open ” ^

shoJ5^!' --odom-Sodom!'' said the general, shrugging his

altt?ughTai?^^sh^aSd^ Xussy ^ ^“yself^^SerLps,

trampling fn a milSoJ ?nd fS? ^o boast of

fitter! YTial sort of a vife ^ould

Afanasy Ivanovitch, I really havp that?

jaiow! How could you think I fhoufd vf ^ mPkon, you
for the sake of your sevenU' fivo'tt, f to manj' Ganya
your seventy-fiie thouS can ticeba^

nse to a hundred; RogoSh^^r^ Ivano\utch. You didn't

Hey, you, wine! Oughp' ^ with delight,

be m,ic,V5^. ''“c ready, I want to drink. And will there

166

“Yes, yes. Don't go near her!" cried Rogozliin franticaUj
seeing Darya Alexeyevna approaching Nastasya Filippovna.
“She is mine! It’s all mine 1 My queen! It’s the end I”

He was gasping with joy. He walked round Nastasya
Filippovna, shouting to everyone: "Don't come near her!”
His whole retinue had b}' now flocked into the drawing-room.
Some were drinking, some were shouting and laughing, all were
in tlie greatest excitement and completely at their ease.
Ferdj'shtchenko began trying to fraternise with them. General
Epanchin and Totsky again attempted to effect a hasty retreat.
Ganya too had his hat in his hand, but he stood in silence and
still seemed unable to tear himself away from the scene before
him.

“Don't come near her!” cried Rogozhin.

"Why are you bellowing?'' Nastasya Filippovna laughed at
him. “I am still the mistress here; if I like, I can still kick you
out. I haven't taken your money yet, there it lies still; give
it here, the whole bundle ! Is there a hundred thousand in that
bundle? Ough, how nasty! What’s the matter with you,
Darya Alexeyevna? Would you have had me ruin him?’’ —
she pointed to Myshkin. “How could he be married? He wants
a nurse to look after him. The general there will be his nurse;
see how he is hanging upon him 1 Look, prince, your betrothed
takes the money because she is a low woman, and you wanted
to marry her! But why are you crjung? Are you sorry? You
ought to laugh as I do.’’ — Nastasya Filippovna went on,
though there were two large tears glistening on her cheeks —
"Tnist to time; it will all pass! Better to think twice now
than after. . . . But why are you all crying? Here's
Katy'a crying too 1 ^Vhat's the matter with you, Katya dear?
I’ll leave a lot to you and Pasha, I’ve settled it already; and
now good-bye ! I've made an honest girl like you wait on a low
creature like me. . . . It’s better so, prince, it’s really better;
you’d have despised me later on, and we should not have been
happy. Don't swear, I don’t believe it! And how stupid it
would have been 1 . . . No, better part as friends, or no good
would have come of it, for I am sometliing of a dreamer my-
self, you know. Haven’t I dreamed of you myself. You are
right, I dreamed of you long ago, when I lived all alone in his
country home. I used to think and dream, tliink and dream,
and I was always imagining someone like you, kind, good and
honest, and so stupid that he would come forrvard all of a
sudden and say: ‘"y^ou are not to blame, Nastasya Filippovna,

167

f you.’ I used to dream like that, till I nearly went
lind. . . . And then tills man would come, stay
n the year, bringing sliamc, dishonour, corruption,
and go away. So that a thousand times I wanted
If into the pond, but I was a poor creature, I hadn’t
and now . . . Rogozhin, arc you ready?”
teady! Don't come near her!”
teadyl” shouted several voices.

The troikas are waiting with bells! ”
i,astasya Filippovna snatched up the bundle of notes.
"Ganya, an idea has occurred to me. I want to compensate
you, for why should you lose cvciytiung? Rogozhin, would he
crawl on all fours to the other end of Petersburg for three
roubles?”

"He would."

"Then listen, Ganya; I want to see into your soul for the
last time. You have been torturing me for tlirce months past,
now it’s my turn. You see this roll, tlicre was a hundred
thousand roubles in it I I’m just going to throw it into the fire,
before eveiyone, all are \vitnesses. As soon as the fire has got
it all alight, put your liands into the fire, only without gloves,
with your bare hands and turn back your sleeves, and pull the
bundle out of the fire. If you can pull it out, it's yours, the
whole hundred thousand. You’ll onl}' burn your fingers a little —
but it’s a hundred thousand, think of itf It won’t take long
to pull out. And I shall admire your spirit, seeing how you
put your hands into the fire for my money. All are witness^
that the bundle shall be yours. And if you don’t, then it will
bum: I won’t let anyone touch it. Stand away! Everyone
stand back 1 It’s my money 1 It’s my wages for a night with
Rogozhin. Is it my money, Rogozhin? ”

"Yours, my joy! Yours, my queen 1"

"Then all stand back, I may do what I like! Don’t inter-
fere! Ferdjshtchenko, make up the fire!”

"Nastasya Filippovna, I can't raise my hands to it,” answered
Ferdyshtchenko, dumbfounded.

"Echl” cried Nastasya Filippovna. She snatched up the
tongs, separated two smouldering chunks of wood, and as soon
as the fire flared up, she flung the bundle into it.

There w’as an outcry from all the party; many even crossed
themselves.

"She’s gone out of her mind! She is madl” they shouted.
"Oughtn't we . . . oughtn’t we ... to tie her up?” the

general whispered to Ptits5T3, "or send for the . . . She
mad, isn’t slie? isn’t she?”

"N-no, perliaps it isn’t quite madness,” Ptitsjm whispered,
trembiing and white as a handkercliief, unable to take his eyes
off the smouldering roll of notes.

"She is mad I She’s mad, isn't she?” the general persisted
to Totsky.

"As I told you, she is a woman of glaring effects,” muttered
Afanasy Ivanovitch, also somewhat pale.

“But come, you know, it’s a hundred thousand!”

"Good heavens! ” was heard on ail sides. Everyone crowded
round tlie fireplace, evci3'ono pressed forward to see, everyone
exclaimed. Some even jumped on chairs to look over each
other’s heads. Darya Alexeyevna whisked away into the other
room and whispered in alarm with Katya and Pasha. The
beautiful German had fled.

"Madam! Roj'al lady! Omnipotent lady!" v’ailed Lebedyev,
crawling on his knees in front of Nastasya Filippovna, stretcliing
out his hands to the fire. "A hundred thousand — a hundred
thousand 1 I saw the notes myself, they were rolled up before
me. Lady! Gracious lady! Tell me to pick them out!
I’ll get sight in, I'll pat my grey head in! . . . My wife is
sick and bed-ridden; I’ve tliirtcen children, all orphans; I
buried my fatlier last week, he had nothing to cat, Nastasya
Fihppovna ! ’ ’

And he tried to get to the fire.

"Get away!” cried Nastasya Filippovna, shoving him off.
"All stand back! Ganya, why are you standing still? Don’t
be shy, pick it out! It’s your luck!”

But Ganya had suffered too much that da}^ and was not ready
for this last unexpected ordeal. The crowd parted in front of
him and he remained face to face Avith Nastasya Filippovna,
three steps from her. She was standing close by the fire, wait-
ing. \vith intent, glowing eyes fixed upon him. Ganya stood in
his evening dress with his arms folded and his gloves and hat in '
his hand, gazing mutely at the fire. A frenzied smile strayed on
his chalk-white face. It is true that he couldn’t take his eyes off
the fire, off the smouldering roll of notes; but something new
seemed to have risen up in Iiis soul : he seemed to have vowed
to endure tlie ordeal. He did not move from his place. In a
few instants it became clear to everyone that he was not going
to touch the notes.

"I say, if it’s burnt they’ll all cry shame on you!” Nastasya

169

Hs-
' v:

slioutcd to liim, "You’ll hang yourself afterwards!
.rncst.’’

which luid flamed up at first between two smouldcr-
was smotliercd by the bundle being thrown on to it.
j blue flame still lingered on the lower side at the end
Jg. At last Uic long tliin tongue of flame licked the

/oQ', the fire caught it and ran upwards at the corners.

Suddenly the whole bundle flared up in tiie fireplace and a
bright flame shot up. Everyone drew a deep breath.

‘•Lady!’’ Lebedyev vociferated again, pusiiing fonvard; but
Rogozhin dragged and pushed him back once more.

Rogozhin seemed petrified in a fixed stare at Nastasya
Filippovna. He could not take his eyes off her; he was drunk
with delight, he was in the scvcntli heaven.

"That’s like a queen ! " he kept repeating, addressing himself
to everyone near. "That’s style!" he kept shouting, beside
himself. "Which of you pickpockets would do a thing like
that, ell?"

Myshkin looked on, mournful and silent.

"I’d pull it out with my teeth for a paltry thousand,"
suggested Ferdyshtchenko.

"I could pull it out with my teeth too," the fisted gentleman
groaned in the rear, in genuine despair. "D-damn it all! It’s
burning, it’s all on fire!” he shouted, seeing the flame.

"It’s burning — it’s burning!" they all cried with one voice,
almost everj'one making a dash to the fire.

"Ganya, don’t show’ off! For the last time I say it!"

"Pick it out!" roared Ferdyshtchenko, rushing to Ganya in
a positive frenzy and pulling him by the sleeve. "Pull it out,
you conceited jackanapes! It’ll be burnt! Oh, d-damn you ! ”

Ganya pushed Ferdyshtchenko violently away, turned, and
walked to the door. But before he had taken two steps, he
staggered and feU in a heap on the floor.

"Fainting!” they cried.

"Dear lady, it -will be burnt I" wailed Lebedj'ev.

"It’ll bum for nothing!" they were roaring on all sides.
"Katya, Pasha, water for him, spirit!" shouted Nastasya
Filippovna.

She picked up the tongs and palled out the notes. AH the out-
side wrappings were burnt and in ashes, but it could be seen at
once that the inside of the roll was untouched. The bundle was
wrapped up in three thicknesses of newspaper and the notes
were unhurt. Everyone breathed more freely.

170

"Only a poor little tliousancl spoiled perhaps and the rest a.
all safe," Lebedyev commented with great feeling.

"It's all his! The whole roil is his 1 Do you hear, friends?"
Nastasya Filippovna declared, laying the roll of notes' beside
Ganya. "He wouldn't do it, he stood the test, so his vanity is
even greater than his love for money. It’s no matter, he’ll come
to. But for this he might have murdered someone. . . , There,
he’s coming to himself. General, Ivan Petrovitch, Darya
Ale.xeyevna, Katya, Pasha, Rogozhin, do you hear? The notes
are his — Ganya’s. I give it him to do as he likes %vith, as
compensation for . . . whatever it is! Tell himl Let it lie
there by him. . . . Rogozhin, march 1 Good-bye, prince 1 You
are the first man I have seen in my life! Good-bye, Afanasy
Ivanovitch, vterci!"

The crowd of Rogozhin's followers passed through the rooms
to the front door after Rogozhin and Nastasya Filippovna, with
hubbub, clamour and shouts. In the hall the maids gave her her
fur coat; the cook Marfa ran in from the kitchen. Nastasya
Filippovna kissed them all.

"But can you be leaving us altogether, dear lady? But where
are you going? And on your birthday, too, such a dayl” the
weeping girls asked, kissing her hands.

"To the gutter, Katya — ^you heard that's my proper place —
or else to be a washerwoman. I’ve done wth Afanasy Ivano-
vitch. Greet him for me, and don't remember e\'ii against
me* • • •

Myshkin rushed headlong to the street door, where all the
party were getting into four troikas with bells. ' General
Epanchin succeeded in overtaking him on the staircase.

"Pray think what you are doing, prince ! ’’ he said, seizing his
arm. "Give it upl You see what she is. I speak as a father."

Myshkin looked at him, but v/ithout uttering a word broke
away and ran downstairs.

At the street door, from wliich the troikas had just started,
the general saw Myshkin call the first sledge and shout to the
driver: "To Ekaterinhof; follow the troikasl” Then the
general’s grey horse drew up and the general drove home rvith
new hopes and plans and the pearls, which in spite of every-
tliing he had not forgotten to take with him. Among his plans
the fascinating figure of Nastas}^ Filippovna flitted two or three
times. The general sighed.

"I am sorry — genuinely sorry. She is a lost w'oman I A mad
woman 1 . . . But the prince is not for Nastasya Filippovna

171

I

it's perhaps a good thing it’s turned out as it has.”
' lifylng words summing up the situation were uttered

sts ot Nastasya Filippovna’s, who decided to walk a

1 know, Afanas}' Ivanovitch, they say something of
lone among the Japanese,” obser\'ed Ivan Pctrovitch

-/They say anyone who has received an insult goes to

liis enemy and says: ‘You have wronged me, and in revenge
I’ve come to cut open my stomach before you,’ and witlr tliose
words actually docs rip open his stomach before liis enemy, and
probably feels great sabslaction in doing so, as ttiough it really
were a vengeance. There arc strange people in liie world,
Afanasy Ivanovitclil”

"And you think there was sometliing of tlie sort in this case
too?” Totsky responded, with a smile. "Hml . . . That’s
clever, though . . . and you’ve made an excellent comparison.
But you've seen for yourself, my dear Ivan Pctrovitch, that I’ve
done all I could; I can’t do more tlian I can, you’ll admit.
But you must admit too that tliat woman has some first-rate
points . . . some brilliant qualities. 1 felt tempted to cry out
to her, if only I could have demeaned myself to do it in that
Bedlam, that she herself is my best apology for all her accusa-
tions. Who wouldn’t have been fasanated sometimes by that
woman so that he would forget reason and . . . everything?
You see, that lout Rogozhin plumped down his load of money
at her feetl True, all that happened just now was sometliing
ephemeral, romantic and unseemly; but there was colour in it
and originality, you must admit that. My God, what might not
be made of such a character, with such beauty 1 But in spite of
all effort, in spite of her education even — it’s all lost! She is an
uncut diamond — I’ve said so several times.'”

And Afanasy Ivanovitch sighed deeply.

172

PART II

CHAPTER I

T WO days after the strange incident at Nastasya Filippovna’s
party with which we concluded the first part of our story,
Prince M37shkin was hurr 3 dng on his way to Moscow to receive
his unexpected fortune. It was said that there might be other
reasons for his hasty departure: but of this and of Myshkin’s
adventures, during his absence from Petersburg we can give
little information. Myshkin was away just six months, and
even those who had reason to be interested in his fate could find
out very little at that time. Though rumours did reach them
indeed at rare intervals, they were for the most part strange ones
and almost always contradictory. The Epancliin family, of
course, took more interest in Myshkin than anyone else, though
he went away without even taking leave of them. General
Epanchin did see him two or three times; they had some serious
conversation. But though the general saw him, he did not
mention it to his family. And indeed at first, for almost a
month after Myshkin had gone, his name was avoided by the
Epanchins altogether. Only Madame Epanchin had pronounced
at the very beginning “that she had been cruelly mistaken in
the prince”. Then two or three days later she added vaguely,
not mentioning Myshkin’s name: “that the most striking thing
in her life was the way she was continually being mist^en in
people.” And finally, ten days later, she wound up by adding
sententiously when she was vexed with her daughters: “We
have made mistakes enough. We'll have no more of them.”

We must add that for some time there was rather an un-
pleasant feeling in the house. There was a sense of oppression,
of strain, of some unspoken dissension; everyone wore a frown.
The general was busy day and night, absorbed in his work. His
household hardly got a glimpse of him; he had rarely been seen
more active and occupied, especially in his official work. As for
the young ladies, no word was spoken by them openly. Perhaps
even when they were alone together, very little was said. They
were proud, haughty girls and reserved even with one another,
diough they understood each other not only at a word but at a
glance, so that sometimes there was no need to say much.

There was only one conclusion that might have been drawn

173

b\' a disinterested observer, if there had happened to be such a
one— namely, that to judge from the above-mentioned facts,
few as they were, Myshkin had succeeded in making a marked
impression on the Epanchin family, though he had only been
once among them, and then for a short time. Perhaps the feel-
ing he had inspired was simply curiosity aroused by certain
eccentric adventures of Myshkin’s. However that might be,
the impression remained.

Little bj' little, tlie rumours that had circulated about the town
were lost in tire darkness of uncertainty. A story was told
indeed of some little prince who was a simpleton (no one could
be sure of his name), who had suddenly come into a vast fortune
and married a Frenchwoman, a notorious dancer of the cancan
from the Chateau-de-Fleurs in Paris. But others declared that
it was a general who had come in for a fortune, and that the
man who had married the notorious French cancan dancer was
a young Russian merchant of untold wealth, and that at his
wedding, from pure bravado, he had when drunk burnt in a
candle lottery tickets to tlic value of seven hundred thousand
roubles. But all these rumours soon died away, a result to which
circumstances greatly contributed. All Rogozhin’s followers, for
instance, many of whom might have had something to say, had
all gone in his wake to Moscow, a week after an awful orgy at
the Ekaterinhof Vauxhall, in which Nastasya Filippovna took
part. The few persons who were interested in the subject learnt
from certain reports that Nastasya Filippovna had run off and
disappeared the day after this orgy, and she seems to have been
traced to Moscow'; so that Rogozhin's departure to Moscow
seemed to fall in with this rumour.

There were rumours too with regard to Gavril Ardalionordtch
Ivolgin, who was also pretty well known in his own circle. But
something happened to him which quickly softened and in the
end completely stopped all impleasant stories about him; he
fell seriously ill and unable to go to his office, much less into
society. He recovered after a month’s illness, but for some
reason resigned liis position in the office of the joint stoclc com-
pany and was replaced by another man. He had not once been
to the Epanchins’ house either; so another clerk undertook the
duties of secretary to the general. Gavril Ardalionovitch’s
enemies might have assumed that he was so crestfallen at all
that had happened to him as to be ashamed to go out into the
really ill, and sank into a state of hwo-
chondna; he grew moody and irritable. Varvara Ardalionovna

was married to P^itsyn that who ^JJ^^Yllinno^retum

marriage down to the fact * to keep his family, but

to his duties, and was not on y ^^^t of care himself,
was even in need of ® .up-is that no mention was made

It may be observed m Ardalionovitch either, as

in the Epanchin family in their house, nor had

though such a man had nev been nieantime everj'one i
indeed existed m the world at a . ^^^g^__one remarkable

the family leamt.^d veiy shorty o
fact concerning him. 0" *?S^nn Sanya did not go to l^d
experience with Nastasya PP ^T^chkin’s return with fewns
on^retuming home, but a^^ted -^ys^^ Ekaterinhof, came home
impatience. Myshlan, ^ P Canya went into h^ ro

at^ix o’clock next morning, inra y scorched notes

and laid on the tabk Wore hm

nresented to him by “r^t back to her at the brst

He becged Myslikm to give this p j^yskkin’s room, he was

“£f .s Vi

about her brother. ^ g^k the intimacy of P^°P . ^ ^jith

mvn way, although she^dse^^^ She liad been acqu^^teci
almost turned ^ut she had seen now,

not care for She wondered, was angry,

mother, Nina Alexandro%ma.

put down their intimacy wiOr Varj’a to the whims and self-will
of her daughters, who "did not know what to think of to oppose
her". But Varya continued to tdsit them, both before and after
her marriage.

A month after Mj^shkin’s departure, however, Jfadame
Epanchin received a letter from old Princess Bj'elokonsky, who
had gone a fortnight before to Moscow to stay witli her eldest
married daughter, and tlus letter had a marked effect upon her,
though slie said nothing of it to her daughters or to Ivan
Fyodorovitdr, but from various signs it was evident to them
that she was much excited, even agitated, by it. She began talk-
ing rather strangely to her daughters and always of such c.vtra-
ordinary subjects; she was evidently longing to open her heart,
but for some reason restrained herself. She w’as affectionate to
everj'onc on the day she received the letter, she even kissed
Adelaida and Aglaia; she owned herself in fault in regard to
them, but they could not make out how. She even became
indulgent to Ivan Fj'odorodtch, who had been in her bad books
for the past month. Next day, of course, she was extremely
angiy at her own sentimentality, and managed to quarrel with
everyone before dinner, but the horizon cleared again towards
the evening. For a whole week she continued to be in a fairly
good humour, which had not been the case for a long time
past.

But a week later a second letter came from the Princess Byelo-
konsky, and this time Madame Epanchin made up her mind to
speak out. She announced solemnly that "old Byelokonsky"
(she never called the princess anything else when she spoke of
her behind her back) gave her comforting new’s about that . . .
"queer fellow, that prince, you know". The old lady had traced
him in JIoscow, had inquired about him, and had found out
something very good. Myshkin had been to see her himself at
last, and had made an extremely good impression on her, as was
evident from the fact that she invited him to come and see her
every monung between one and two. "He has been hanging
about there eve^ day, and she is not sick of him yet," Madame
Epanchin concluded, adding that through "the old woman"
the prince had been received in rivo or three good families. "It's
a good thing that he doesn’t stick at home and isn’t shy like a
noodle."

The girls to whom all this was imparted noticed at once that
their mamma was concealing a great deal in the letter. Perhaps
they leamt this from Varvara Ardalionovna, who might and

176

probably did know everything Ptitsyn knew about Myshkin
and his stay in Moscow. And Ptitsyn was in a position to know
more than anyone else. But he was an D.vceedingly silent man
in regard to business matters, tliough of course he used to tail<
to Varya. Madame Epanchin conceived a greater dislike tlian
ever for Varya on account of it.

But anyway the ice was broken, and it became suddenly
possible to speak of Jlyshkin aloud. Moreover, tlie great interest
he had awakened and the extraordinary impression he had left
on the Epanchins were once more apparent. The mother was
astonished, indeed, at the effect that her news from Moscow had
on her daughters. And the daughters too wondered at their
mamma, who, after declaring that "tlic most striking tiring in
her life was the way she rvas continually being mistaken in
people”, had 3’et procured for the prince the protection of the
"powerful” old Princess Byclokonsky, though it must have cost
her much begging and praying, for the "old woman" was
difficult to prevail upon in such cases.

But as soon as the ice rvas broken and there was a change in
the rvind, the general too hastened to express himself. It
appeared that he too had been taking an exceptional interest
in ilyshkin. But he discussed only "the business aspect of the
question”. It appeared that in the interests of the prince he had
asked two very truthworthy and, in their own way, influential
persons in Moscow to keep an eye on him, and still more on
Salazkin, who had charge of liis affairs. All that had been said
about the fortune — "about the fact of the fortune, that is to
say” — ^had turned out to be true, but the fortune itself had
turned out to be much less considerable than had been rumoured
at first. The property was partly in an involved condition:
there were, it appeared, debts; other claimants turned up too,
and in spite of the advice given him Myshkin had behaved in a
most unbusiness-like way. "God bless him, of course I ” Now,
when the ice of silence was broken, the general was glad to
express his feelings "in all sincerity of heart”, for though "tire
fellow was a bit lacking", still he did deserve it. Yet he had
done something stupid. Creditors of the late merchant’s had
sent in claims, for instance, based on questionable or worthless
documents; and some of them, getting rvind of the prince’s
character, had, even come forward without any documents at
all; and — would you believe it? — the prince had satisfied almost
all of them in spite of his friends’ representations that all these
wretches of creators had absolutely no claim on him; and his

-77

only reason for satisfjdng them was that some oi them actually
had been unfairly treated.

Madame Epanchin observed that old Byelokonsky had written
something of the sort to her, and that "it was stupid, very
stupid. There's no curing a fool,” she added harshly: but it
could be seen from her face how pleased she was at tlie conduct
of tins "fool”. In the end the general saw tliat his wife cared
for Myshkin, as though he were her son, and had begun to be un-
accountably affectionate to Aglaia. Seeing this, Ivan Fyodoro-
vitch assumed for a time a peculiarly business-like air.

But this pleasant state of things did not last long. A fort-
night passed and again there w'as a sudden change. Madame
Epanchin looked cross, and, after some shrugging of the
shoulders, General Epanchin resigned himself again to the
"ice of silence”.

The fact was that only a fortnight before he had privately
received some brief and not quite clear, though authendc,
information that Nastasya Filippovna, who had at first dis-
appeared in Moscow, then been found there by Rogoziiin, and
had then again disappeared and been found again, had at last
almost promised to marry him, and, behold ! only a fortnight
later his excellency had suddenly learnt that Nastasya Fihp-
povna had run away for the third time, almost on her wedding
day, and had disappeared somewhere in the provinces, and that
Prince Myshkin had vanished at the same time, leaving all his
business in Salazkin’s charge, "Whether %vith her, or simply
in pursuit of her, is not known, but there’s something in it,"
the general concluded.

Lizaveta Prokofyevna too had received some unpleasant news.
The upshot of it was that two months after the prince had gone
almost every rumour about him had died down in Petersburg,
and the "ice of silence” was again unbroken in the Epanchm
family. Varya, however, still visited the girls.

To make an end of all these rumours and explanations we
wiE add that there were many changes in the Epanchin house-
hold in the spring, so that it was difficult not to forget the prince
who sent no news of himself and perhaps did not care to do so.
During the winter they gradually came to the decision to spend
the summer abroad, Lizaveta Prokofyevna and her daughters,
that is. It was, of course, impossible for the general to waste
his time on "frivolous diversion”. This decision was due to tiro
urgent and persistent efforts of the girls, who were thoroughly
persuaded that their parents did not want to take them abroad

17S

because they were so taken up with bynng to many tliem and
find them husbands. Possibly the parents were convinced at
last that husbands might be met with even abroad, and that
travel for one summer, far from upsetting plans, might even
perhaps "be of use’’. This is the place to mention that tlie
proposed marriage of Afanasy Ivanovitch Totsky and the eldest
of the girls had been broken off, and the formal offer of his hand
had never been made. This had somehow happened of itself
without much talk and rvithout any family quarrel. The project
had suddenly been dropped on both sides at the time of Myshkin’s
departure. This circumstance had been one of the causes of the
ill-humour prevailing in the Epanchin family, though the mother
had declared at the time that she was so glad that "she could
have crossed herself with both hands at once". Though the
general was in disfavour and knew that he was to blame, yet he
lelt aggrieved for a long time. He was sorry to lose Afanasy
Ivanovitch — "such a fortune and such a sharp fellow"! Not long
afterwards the general learnt that Totsky had been fascinated
by a Frenchwomain of the liighest society, a marquise and a
legitimiste; tliat they were going to be married, and that
Afanasy Ivanovitch was to be taken to Paris and then to
Brittany. "Well, with the Frenchwoman he is lost to us,’’
concluded the general. The Epanchins were preparing to set
off before summer, when suddenly a circumstance occurred which
changed all their plans, and tire tour was put off again, to the
great delight of the general and his wife. A certain Prince S.
came from Moscow to Petersburg, a well-known man and well
known for his excellent qualities. He was one of those modem
men, one may even say reformers, who are honest, modest,
genuinely and intelligently desirous of the public weal, always
working and distinguished by a rare and happy faculty of find-,
ing work. Not courting public notice, avoiding the bitterness
and verbosity of party strife, the prince had a thorough under-
standing of contemporary movements, though he did not regard
himself as a leader. He had been in tlie government service;
afterwards he had been an active member of a Zemstvo. He
was, moreover, a correspondent of several learned societies. In
collaboration with a well-known e-xpert, he had collected facts
and made inquiries which led to an improvement in the scheme
for a very important new railway line. He was about thirty-
five. He was a man "of the highest society”, and had, more-
over, a "good, serious, and unmistakable fortune”, in the words
of General Epanchin, who happened to have to do with Prince

179

S. about rather important business and made his acquaintance in
the house of the count who was the chief of General Epanchin’s
department. Prince S. had a certain interest in Russian
"practical men" and never avoided their society. It came to
pass that the prince was introduced to the general's family.
Adelaida Ivanovna, the second of the sisters, made a consider-
able impression upon him. Before the end of the winter he
made her an offer. Adelaida liked him extremely; Lizaveta
Prokofyevna liked him too; General Epanchin was delighted.
The foreign tour was of course put off. The wedding was fixed
for the spring.

The tour might still have come off in the middle of the
summer, or towards the end of it, if only as a brief visit for a
month or two to console the mother and the remaining daughters
for the loss of Adelaida. But sometliing fresh happened. To-
wards the end of the spring (Adelaida's wedding was deferred
till the middle of the summer) Prince S. introduced to tlie
Epanchins one of his own family, w'hom he knew very well,
though he was only a distant relation. This was Yevgeny
Pavlovitch Radom^y, a young man of twenty-eight, an
Imperial aide-de-camp, extremely handsome and of good family.
He ^vas witty, brilliant, "modem", “of extreme education",
and almost too fabuloudy wealthy. As to the latter point,
General Epanchin was always very careful. He made inquiries:
"There does seem to be something in it; though, of course, one
ought to make sure.” This young and promising aide-de-camp
was highly recommended by old Princess Byelokonsky from
Moscow. But one rumour about him was rather disturbing:
there were tales of liaisotis, of "conquests", and broken hearts.
Seeing Aglaia, he became assiduous in his visits to the
Epanchins', Nothing indeed had been said as yet, no hint
even had been dropped, yet it seemed to the parents that it
would be out of the question to go abroad that summer. Aglaia
herself was of a different opinion.

All this was happening just before our hero's second entry on
the scene of our story. By that time, to judge by appearances,
poor Prince Myshkin had been completely forgotten in Peters-
burg. If he had suddenly appeared now among those who had
known him, he would seem to have fallen from heaven. We will
add one other fact and so complete our introduction.

After Myshkin's departure Kolya Ivolgin had at first spent
his time as before — that is to say, he went to school, visited his
friend Ippolit, looked after his father, and helped Varya in the

i8o

/It! "Rnt the boarders were soon,
house and ran awav three days after the

all gone. Ferdyshtchenko went ^ y disappeared corn-

evening at Nastasya Fihppovna s mo ^o

pletely, so that diat he was drinking. Myshkin

though not on were no more boarders.

had gone a^^y marSd Nina Alexandrovna and

Later on, when house at the other end of

Ganya moved with her to Fu W u^oreseen event

Petemburg. As in the debtors'

befell him about Captain’s widow, on

prison. Thiswasthedomgof tas to ^alue of bvo

account of various bills ^ surprise to him, and &e

thousand roubles. It ^ dlv^the victim of his unfounded

poor general was human heart, speaking generally .

faith in the generoaty of the h man h p promises to pay
Haviiig adopted the soothing they could ever lead

S.d lOUs, L ?T' anneM. lt
to an3dhing; he had alway can one put faith ™an

turned out not to be all chow generous confidence, he

kind after that? How is .f°/ his new friends m pnson
used to exclaim anecdotes of the fege

over a bottle of ivine, and fo^^the dead. It suited him
Kars and the soldier who rose fro jj^^intained that it w^
capitaUy, however. Pbts^ ^'^ Y?^ agreed with them. Only
the very place for him, Wtter tears in secret (at ^hi

poor Nina Alexandrovna b to ^ a^

Lr household Pf *vely J^n she could to visit her

was, she dragged herself as often as

husband. , •■„pneral’s mishap”,

But from tlie time of the sister’s mamag^

pressed it— and, in f^^f' things had come to such a
Kolya had got quite out of hand n

pass that he rarely even slept at hom moreover, he hec^^e fe
made a number of new acquautoo s, ^ Alexantovna

too weU known in the at home now they not

could not get on there 'Vithout had beOT

even worry him with quesb • now with the shg

S to before, did not p^ter^ ^the snrpri^.°* the rest of
inquiry about his wandermg . Lypochondna, some

the household, Ganya, m ®P friendly f® ^^nllv

talked and behaved m qmte a fr ^enty-seven had naturaUy
something quite new, for ^ ny^^ fifteen-year-old bro

never taken any fnendly int

Wne family's

■aam, rtici, drove Koiv;" ,"™ 'I'ralciiins to o„] his

Anya's »' '“I fen soS”a?

Se,°,tS !S 4' "'"'• "•“

K±'7 ‘■'t STif^hlran;;’ '?f '^”'°"£vel'

On°? ^P^'^nchin; but ho and

tunity when f}iP'!"'^^ astonish. At Easter h Aglaia

“ IS

opened the letter and

El?, 1^

VOK fl7/ tJirect ^^tstence rin-? i?c«Ve to

1 -r "^'“•°y7Jri'‘;r‘"'i

^^f^«ot^hatI^anHodo;I

have a great desire that you should be happy. Are you happy?
That was all 1 wanted to say to you.

Your brother.

L. HIYSHKIN.

Reading that brief and rather incoherent letter, Aglaia flushed
all over and fell to musing. It would be hard to say what she
was thinking o'f. Among other things she asked herself whether
she should show it to anyone. She felt somehow ashamed to.
But she ended by tiurowing the letter into her table drawer with
a strange and ironical smile. But the next day she took it out
again and put it into a thick, strongly bound book (she always
did tills with her papers so that she might find them more readily
when she wanted them). And not till a wTCk after did she
happen to notice what the book was. It was “Don Quix-ote de
La Mancha”. Aglaia burst out laughing for some unknown
reason. It is not known whether she showed the note to her
sisters.

But even while she was reading the letter she wondered : can
that conceited and boastful puppy be chosen as a correspondent
by the prince, and perhaps bis only correspondent here? With
a^show of exaggerated carelessness she beg^ to cross-examine
Kol 3 'a, But though the boy was alwaj's quick to take offence,
this time he did not in the least notice her carelessness. Very
briefly and rather dryly he explained that, although he had given
Myshkin his permanent address when the latter was leawng
Petersburg and had offered to do what he could for him, this was
the first commission he had given him, and tlie first letter he had
received from him; and in support of liis words he showed her a
letter addressed to him from Myshkin. Aglaia did not scruple to
read it. The letter to Kolya ran as follows:

Dear Kolya, will yoti be so good as to give the enclosed sealed
letter to Aglaia Ivanovna? Hoping you are all well.

Your loving.

L. MYSHKIN.

"It’s ridiculous to trust a chit like j’ou 1 ” Aglaia said huffily,
handing Kol 3 ra. back his letter; and she walked contemptuously
by him.

This was more than Kotoa could endure, when he had even
asked Ganya, %vithout telling him why. to lend him his new
green scarf for the occasion. He was bitterly offended.

183

lusuaily fine SefeSburg f"? been un-

?M^Ms§b^=

shkm arnved by a moS?/ NikoJaye-

bim at the statinn k.... _ _ . ^ hram from Movriw xt_

dv* h”"'’ f “•'•‘S' fih''“i°'^'°

“ n'e“i'“iC

changed his clothe-^^^^*^*^ ^°°™s in^it ^1° small,

as though afS 'f nothing an!? ^nd

‘ * ; r ““ ” " “ s^~fs

s'j.iF' '* x«

^roscow tailor Rut ^ and had Ho quite

dothes: thev wpr ^ somethino- t>y a good

from consciratiou! w bis

a man who x« u n°t ven^ taJemi 1 ^’othes always are

“Ss,!FflF*s;y4'’»

fa ««»« 'ir'-'" >>» » pr=4 "fafa- To

Windows on thr!^^.*^ n front f n°"f®' bept

dMousso^frftt^ro.opai, aiS“ The

iloud Or makiniT ^ voice, as thoupTi them came the con-

^y a choS o?l-n the voice were reading

runted the stens ^^n^hter. Myshkin “^bmes mterrupted
steps and asked for Mr^dlv y^'

184 y

Uie ‘'dnvwir'.K-tonni' . covered with dark blue palmer

The <l»winK-roonr ^’adj. aI« ^ ^j^,.^rtnc?5-thal is.

wid wr5funiidiaUu-ath ^ ^-lock «ndcr a

it cout'vilicd a foi't ^'iVs on the v.-.dl, and a small old-

rln^'-e case, a nan^'V, bronze chain from the ceding

fashioned chandelier hanttnn, bv »- . { .be room, with lus

ak adonicd witl. Ik- was wearing

back to the d'x^r. --tood M.. k* - ■ (jcfcrence to .he

a waistcoat, but had f-sc-arded declaiming,

weather, and. stnmng .;‘;„dioncc consisted of a toy oi

bitlerlv on some snbj'~< <.. , f.,rc and a hook m his haneb.

fifteen with a tnc-rn‘ and mourning and oar^nog a

a young ghl atom tw-my. dre ^ J^oanimg, f

b.abv in her anus', a gtr! o. di ■ jjpen; and .another very

laughing vioUnilly w-idi her mouth ^ bandsomc.

btmngedooking ‘'f'*''-'., ng Inair. large ^mk {-ye-s. an^

dark lad of twenty veatli tluck loi g He yccmcci

• ■i-ith just a hint of toard in his I'amnpic and

arguing with him. and i . , . t r,nl-

Tta.Sd.1 L.,wv- Timolcp.*. I «>" l-“>-
\mh . Well, botheration out red with anger.

‘ And. ;-avinR her hands Mv^hkin. sh^d for sonm

T cbcdvcv looked round, and A ' ,,;brd to him wath an
tim'e as ttong^/l’^r^^l'^gl^^fbeTcadi'cl him he stood still again,
ingratiating smile, but to.

'"'■Tl-iUmu^ prince!” jo the

But suddenly, as though ^ Tj ing, rushed rtlcd

turned round and. *r'vmmncr

mourning with \ cr m mice and flew at

and drew back', but he left leading mto

girl, who was standing m tlic d or J nipng hps. Sto

foom uath traces of laughter s ^behen. kctodj^cv

scared bv his shou and bolted t ^ut meet uig the

stamped his feet at her to add to ^ he brought out m

eye of Mv-shkin. who looked on emu

. . . n-P-J' was beginning.

"There’s no need of all this . . .

cane!" nnnutc~onc minute ,

And • *

• * ijl’e “i

'r *'“ ™">. 5Mi-in

Tci, r ws' '-tTi- ^ ^ ^

■’ 'il°‘'‘'-, T“'''»r1mrrVh.i? fi“ ''’’T '™" "" "N»l
JF^»S, and, „^,|, a mo,.'’;“JS™ ;t trc?'" '“S™

"He »ev«r ciri I HwiMinq (ace. she

drunV- fn . ‘^o'»cs barf- n m ^ no'v, it's jj.c

the Bible °o^,iVT'' crie^ i^n'^^'ih"’^’ •‘^o^’i^thnes

"He ran -. >t’s onlv five S evening and reads

°v“'w1'i“ ■«*'■ '°"4'“h!s',S ”"■¥?« fi'SndteSf

"Blit whv hivn • t,e are aJonc in tlie

iho S fS nSP'" -■-.<1.0 qi,..

"Oo“y„''„i'S"y°"e"0, toq„„.„,„., ' '“'■

su5h a^hln^^"?^;"f

asleep in his and flvdnp nn 41, /'‘^hedyev w.is

several times niad^e

That's n^^ K,u ^"ghtened face "r?^^ ^ ‘^^°ss over it

^tyshkin, "born in '^®“gh*er, Lubov " n presen-e

Elena, sSock of 'addressing

^ hi moumine ? ^hildbirth And departed

that-thatiiihat" ^

iS6 ' ■ • *

"What! he can’t go on?" cried the young man. "Go on,
don’t be shy!"

"Your excellency," Lebedyev cried, wth a sort of rush,
"have you read in the papers of the murder of the Zhemarin
family?”

"Yes,” answered Myshkin, with some surprise.

"V/ell, that's the actual murderer of the Zhemarin family,
there he is!”

"What do you mean?” said Myshkin.

"That is, allegorically speaking, the future second murderer
of a future Zhemarin familj', jf such there be. He is preparing
himself for it. ...”

Everybody laughed. It occurred to Myshkin that Lebedyev
really might be playing the fool because he foresaw the questions
he would ask, and, not knowing what answer to make, was try-
ing to gain time.

"He is a rebel! He is plotting!” shouted Lebedyev, as
though unable to restrain himself. "Tell me, can I, have I the
right to recognise such a foul-mouthed fellow, such a strumpet,
so to speak, and monster, as my own nephew, the only son of
my deceased sister Anisya?”

"Oh, shut up, you drunken fellow! Would you believe it,
prince, he’s going in for being a lawyer now — pleads cases in the
court. He’s become so eloquent, he talks in high-flown language
to his children at home. He made a speech before the justices
of peace five days ago, and whom do you think he defended?
Not a poor woman who begged and besought him to, who had
been robbed by a rascally moneylender of five hundred roubles,
all she had in the world, but tliat very moneylender, a Jew called
Zaidler, just because he promised him fifty roubles. ...”

"Fifty roubles if I won the case, onl}^ five if I lost it,”
Lebedyev explained suddenly in quite a different tone, as though
he had not been shouting at all.

"Well, he made a fool of himself, of course. Things are
different nowadays; they only laughed at him. But he was
awfully pleased vdth himself. ‘Remember, O judges who are
no respecters of persons,’ says he, ‘that a sorrowful, bedridden
old man living by his honest toil is losing his last crust of bread.
Remember the %vise words of the lawgiver: "Let mercy prevail
in tire court.” ’ And, would you beheve it, he says over that
very speech to us here every morning, word for word, just as he
spoke it? Just before you came in, he was reading it for the
fifth time, he was so pleased with it. He is licking his lips over,

1S7

^ "Ycs^ ^ world. . . ." «oyoac

”"''' *f'<= world/'

wants Jo m!4e^^^''fTy^. tf dS?n!"'T ^liis man

Lt nie .issiire you. Vojj Jjmv,. „ ^ ” *o flatter \'oi! at n!I

addr^'^' 1 <l'c prince to ’«<ween him

addressed Jmnself to ius undi betwetn ns?" H(

pnneo^indeed." ^ "m glad you've tun,ed up!

S J"”"'' —3

v\ n\* wJiDt ic 1

lJ^'1 a little,

wf cJieaiing hun^'tuid ehd'YI'^ ‘^o»''>nccd tlmt
Ihis 13 the statement of r ^

a lie, though he is ^ nephew Tliaf

rJioSh 1 ^ on the SihS" ^^foan-

i-O ti ^VTc(ch•.*<l. Wrofrh ti*K

shouted Lebedyev. J’on ought not to havcpaidl'

*cs, to a Wretch itnf . u

were nlavlna when I h-fd 3'ct I sat

my uncle I ^ thought to ^“ble (we

Tlrat S bow dmS ^ ^o-'o« I'h go to

meanness!" ^‘=^y was bwi ^Th!?" ^

tes%. "He is only too%Sed^‘i®cS '’ ricplmv shouted

i88

r r3,' 1 . oopnew shouted
e here to him, prince.

and o\vned up. I acted honourably. I did not spare myself.
I abused myself before him all I could — aU here are %vitnesses.
In order to take that job on the railway it is necessary for me
to have some sort of a rig-out, for I am in absolute rags. Just
look at my boots 1 I couldn’t turn up like that, and if I don’t
turn up at the proper time, someone else will get the job, and
tlien I shah be stranded again; and when should I get another
chance? Now I am only asking him for fifteen roubles and I
promise that I will never ask him for anything else again; and,
what’s more, before the end of the first three months I’ll pay
him back every farthing of it. I’ll keep my word. I can live
on bread and kvas for months together, for I have plenty of
will. I shall get seventy-five roubles for three months. With
what I borrowed before, I shall owe him thirty-five, so I shall
have enough to pay him. Let him fix what interest he likes,
damn him ! Doesn't he know me? Ask him, prince, when he
has helped me before, haven’t I paid him back? Why won’t he
help me now? He is an^ because I paid that lieutenant,
there’s no other reason. You see what he is — a regular dog in
the manger!”

"And he won't go sway}” cried Lebedyev. "He iies here
and won’t go away.”

”1 told you so. I won't go till you ^ve it me. You are
smiling, prince. You seem to think I am in the wrong?”

"I am not smiling; but to my thinking you certainly are rather
in the wrong,” Myshlrin answered unwillingly.

"Say straight oiit that I am altogether wrong; don’t shufSe.
What do you mean by 'rather'?”

"If you like, you are altogether wrong.”

"If I like! That’s absurd! Do you suppose that I don’t
know myself that it’s rather a doubtful line to take; that it’s
his money, it’s for him to decide, and it’s an act of violence on
my part? But you . . . know nothing much of life, prince.
There’s no good in sparing men like him a lesson. They need a
lesson. My conscience is clear. On my conscience, he will be
none the worse for it; I shall pay him back with interest. He
has got moral satisfaction out of it too : he has seen my humilia-
tion. What more does he want? What’s the use of him if he
doesn't help people? Look at what he does himself! Ask him
how he treats others and how he takes people in ! How did he
manage to buy this house? I’ll bet you anything he has cheated
you before now, and is already scheming to cheat you again.
You smile. Don’t you believe it?”

180

businesst^bsemd 7°"^

on r’ve Sfterth^voL^‘ goings

you beMeve it, he suiS! tS?Sp"rtK "Would

my cousin and his SaJighter aS^evrSf ^ motherless girl there,
room for lovers! He comes in hn scarclies her

my sofa too. He ^ «S?v peeps under

in every comer. He jumDrun he sees thieve

at the windows to see if^thev i” the night, looking

doors, peering into the oven - Md he'll
in the night. At the court he defoni ^ ‘uu® ^
three times in the nieht to sav hie ^ mbbers, but he gets up
the drawing-room, and banes^ic fo °° huees here in
an hour at a time. And S half

lamentatinnc i.. • , t prayers for ever\-one. what r>inii=

;.=WyeTflShf„7S‘‘S!’y”^^^ .^rirf

that, drunken and degraded swindlS^’anfi^^ doesn't kmow
be. my one good decdwls thlt ^Sgar ^““gh I may

^ swaddling clothes when he wac a g’^^'^mg rascal in

his bath, arid sat up without a wink ^ washed him in

with my widowed sister Anisya whon m'ghts together

■was as poor as she; attended them penniless and I

wood from the porier doSt£ uS^t
fingers at him rvith an empty crack my

has come to I Here he li lauS'Tt?'^ ^ “y n^i^ng

;3 It of yours if I really did business

puntess du Barry? Three SS once for the soul of the

for first time in the dicHonSp ®nn her life

•■?rS ™- '*» y““ S S’”.*”"'"

.e y„„„,

^fang '«,a co„««e'. A ^ " in her own hand-
out '''hut a levde du ^ P^P^.J^gute at a levee du

put the silk stockings on her W i hhnself offered to

?ha?“r^ “d saSed pSillf *°“ght it an

die? A ^ y°n^ foce you doiVt ^*0 you know

Answer if you know." ’ Well, and how did she

rqo

"Get away with you 1 Don't pester me I"

"The way she died after such honours was that the hangman,
Sampson, dragged this great lady, guiltless, to the guillotine for
the diversion of Parisian poissardes, and she was in such terror
she didn't know what was happening to her. She saw he was
bending her neck down under the kmfe and kicking her, while
the people laughed, and she fell to screaming: 'Encore un
moment, monsieur le homreau, encore un moment!' which
means: 'Wait one little minute, ilr. bourreau, only one!' And
perhaps for the sake of that prayer God will forgive her; for one
cannot imagine a greater misere for a human soul than that. Do
you know the meaning of the word misdre? Well, that’s what
misere is. When I read about that countess's cry for ‘one little
minute’, I felt as though my heart had been pinched with a pair
of tongs. And what is it to a worm like you if I did, when I
was going to bed, think of mentioning that sinful woman in my
prayers? And perhaps the reason I mentioned her was that,
ever since the beginning of the world, probably no one has
crossed himself for her sake, or even thought of doing so. And
it may be pleasant for her to feel in the other world that there
is a sinner like herself who has uttered at least one prayer on
earth for her. Why are you laughing? Don't you believe,
atheist? How do you know? And you told a lie if you dici
hear me. I didn't only pray for the Countess du Barry; my
prayer was this : ‘Lord, give rest to the soul of that great sinner
the Countess du Barry and all like her.’ And that’s quite a
different matter, for there are many such sinful women, examples
of the mutability of fortune, who have suffered much and are
storm-tossed yonder, moaning and waiting. And I prayed then
for you and people like you, insolent and overbearing — since
you troubled to listen to my prayers. ..."

"That’s enough, shut up! Pray for whom you like, damn
you, only stop your screaming!” the nephew interrupted, with
vexation. "He is mightily well read, you see. Yon didn’t know
it, did you, prince?” he added, with an awkward grin. "He is
always reading books and memoirs of that sort.”

"Your uncle is anyway not ... a heartless man,” M 5 ^hkin
observed reluctantly. '

He was beginning to feel a great aversion for the young man.

"Why, he’ll be quite puffed up if you praise him hke that.
Look, he’s licking Ms lips already with Ms hand, on his heart
and Ms mouth pursed up 1 He is not heartless perhaps, but he
is a rogue, that’s the trouble; and he is a drunkard besides. He

191

yeare always is; that’s why nothS drmking a good many

oves his children. I ad^ with him. He

bv^ me Md has left me a s4^ffn hfc • . . even

;;i won’t leave you an\dMn^ " ^ow.”

Listen, Lebedyev.” slid MvshViif I^bedyev furiously,
ae young man. ‘‘I kW bv awayLm

buMess-like man when you can be a

now, and if you . . . Excuse me whoV • ^ time

I have forgotten™ ^ and your

ii-u-timofev ”

''And?”

Luhyano vitch . ’ ’

^■aS”; SiS'rneS'‘'.?f”' ■

tbe same to you if it’s Li,l^o5 ° a lie? Isn’t it lust

DutSI!l"h- ‘infusion, droppin A/.’’ admitted,

puttag Jus hapd on his heart*^*^ ® ^ Vea humbly and again

W« Md more humbly. l-'l>edyev. bending his head

™;y;^d iLXoX"'

doXd?^™ -- Kolya Is^’X-Sig man pm himsii

^ptitif'S'Z'Ss' SnXpt^XL-'p-?™-

he meant tn at the Epanchins’^" probably

“■3e uS> r""”'’’' "

-y. too'SeX'S'iS'‘r''’‘X' K« « f Ihis-ttay-

• • nave some coffee ”

;r92

And Lebedyev took Myshkin’s hand and led him away. They
went out of the room, crossed the little yard, and went through
a ^te. Here tliere was a very tiny and charming garden in
which, owing to tlie fine season, all the trees were already in leaf.
Lebedyev made Myshkin sit down on a green wooden seat by a
green table fixed in the ground, and seated himself facing him.
A minute later coffee was brought. Myshkin did not refuse it.
Lebedyev still looked eagerly and obsequiously into his face.

"I didn’t know you had such an establishment,” said
Myshkin, with the air of a man thinking of something quite
different.

"We are orphans . . .” Lebedyev began, wriggling, but he
stopped short.

Myshkin looked absently before him and had no doubt for-
gotten his remark. A minute passed; Lebedyev watched him
and waited,

"Well?” said Myshkin, seeming to wake up. “Ah, yes! You
know yourself, Lebedyev, what our business is. I have come in
response to your letter. Speak.”

Lebedyev was confused, tried to say something, but only
stuttered, no words came. Myshkin waited and smiled mourn-
fully.

"I think I understand you perfectly, Lukyan Timofeyevitch.
You probably did not expect me, and you thought I shouldn't
come back from the rvilds at your first message, and you wrote
to clear your conscience. And here I've come. Come, give it
up, don't deceive me ! Give up serving two masters. Rogozhin
has been here for three weeks. I know everything. Have you
succeeded in selling her to him, as you did last time? Tell me
the truth.”

"The monster found out of himself — of himself.”

"Don't abuse him. He has treated you badly, of course . . .”

“He beat me; he nearly did for me!” Lebedyev interrupted,
with tremendous heat. "He set his dog on me in Moscow; it
was after me the whole length of the street — a hunting bitch, a
fearsome beast!”

“You take me for a child, Lebedyev. Tell me seriously, has
she left him now, in Moscow? ”

"Seriously, seriously, gave him the slip on the very day of the
wedding again. He was counting the minutes while she made
off here to Petersburg and straight to me: ‘Save me, protect
me, Lukyan, and don't tell the prince ! ' , . , She is even more
afraid of you, prince; there's something mysterious about it!”

193

. And Lebedyev slyly put his finger to his forehead.

"And now you have brought them together again? ”

"Most illustrious prince, how could I . . . how could I
prevent it?”

“Well, that’s enough; I’ll find out for myself. Only tell me,
where is she now? With him?”

"Oh no, not at alll She is still by herself. ‘I am free,’ she
says; and you know, prince, she insists strongly on that. ‘I ^
still perfectly free 1 ’ she says. She is still living at my sister-in-
law’s, as I wrote to you.”

"And is she there now?”

“Yes, imless she is at Pavlovsk, as the weather is so fine, at
Darya Alexeyevna’s villa. ‘I am still perfectly free,' she says.
She was boasting only yesterday of her freedom to Nikolay
Ardalionovitch.* A bad sign 1 ”

And Lebedyev grinned.

"Is Kolya often with her?”

"He is a heedless, imaccountable fellow; he doesn’t keep
things secret."

"Is it long since you have been there?”

"Every day — every day.”

"Then you were there yesterday?”

“N-no, three days ago.” _ -

"What a pity you’ve been drinking, Lebedyev. Or I might
have asked you something."

"No, no, no, not a bit of it!” Lebedyev positively pricked
up his ears.

“Tell me, how did you leave her?”

, "S-searching.”

"Searching?”

"As though she were always searching for something, as
though she had lost something. She is sick at the thought of
the marriage and looks upon it as an insult. She thinks no more
of him than of a bit of orange peel. Yes, she does though, for
she thinks of him with fear and trembling; she won’t hear Ws
name even, and they don’t meet if it can be helped . . . and he
feels it only too well. But there’s no getting out of it. She is
restless, sarcastic, double-tongued, violent. ...”
"Double-tongued and violent?”

"Yes, violent; for she almost pulled my hair last time
over one conversation. I tried to bring her round rvith the
Apocalypse.”

• Kolyo IB meant.

394

"What do you say?" Myshkin asked, thinking lie had not
heard him rightly.

“By reading the Apocal3/pse. She is a lady with a restless
imagination. He-hel And I’ve noticed too that she has a
great partiality for serious subjects, however remote they may
be. She likes such talk — ^she likes it and takes it as a mark
of special respect. Yes, I am a great hand at interpreting the
Apocalypse: I've been interpreting it for the last fifteen years.
Sire agreed with me that we are Hving in the age of the third
horse, the black one, and the rider who has the balance in his
hand, seeing that everything in the present age is weighed in
the scal^ and by agreement, and people are seeking for nothing
but their rights— 'a measure of wheat for a penny and three
measures of barley for a permy’; and yet they want to keep a
free spirit and a pure heart and a sound body and all the gifts of
God. But by rights alone they won’t keep them, and after-
wards will follow the pale horse and he whose name was Death
and with whom hell followed. . . . We talk about that when we
meet and ... it has had a great effect on her.”

"Do you believe that yourself?" asked Myshkin, scanning
Lebedyev with a strange expression.

"I believe it and explain it so. lam naked and a beggar and
an atom in the vortex of humanity. No one respects Lebedyev;
he is fair game for everyone’s wit, and they are all ready to
give him a kick. But in interpreting revelation I am equal to
the foremost in the land, for I am clever at it. And a grand
gentleman trembled before me, sitting in his arm-chair, as he
took it in. His illustrious Excellency Nil Alexeyevitch sent for
me the year before last, just before Easter — when I was serving
in his department — and purposely sent Pyotr Zaharitch to fetch
me from the office to his study. And he asked me when we were
alone : ‘Is it true that you expound Antichrist? ’ And I made no
secret of it. ‘I do,’ said I, I explained and interpreted, and did
not soften down the horror, but intentionally increased it, as I
unfolded the allegory and fitted dates to if. And he laughed,
but he began trembling at the dates and correspondences,
and asked me to close the book and go away. He re-
warded me at Easter, but the week after he gave up his soul
to God."

"How so, Lebedyev?”

"He did. He fell out of his carriage after dinner . . . knocked
his head against a post, and on the spot he passed away like a
babe — a little babe. Seventy-three years old he was. He had a

195

With tcenf, and
TJicn Pyotr

red face, grey hair, and was sprinkled ill
he was always smiling — smilhifr Jii-f '-j
^harjtch remembered. 'You foretold^ if ' ryotr

• Alyshkin began getting up. Lebedv-ev •

positively puzzled at his iWing siirpnscd and

"You don't take mudi interest in
ventured to observe obsequioiKlv Hc-hc!" jic

I really don't feel onito
journey, perhaps," answered .Mvshk^

"You ought to be out of toum '' T

^Ij'slikin stood pondering. ' hazarded b'midly.

family 7o?SeSf °ut of (own with all my

How is it cvctyonc here is going°(o '^^yshkin suddenly,

a vilki of your own tliere, you say?- And you ha4

has le? S ^^•t-vitch Pdtsyn
f green and c "P ‘^'“^ap. It's

littlffnH’^^ ® "’^y cver^'one goes to^Pafln'^ f>oii /ori and musical
httlHgdge. however, Sid thf vilh itself °s'’! ; / “

; • • not quite."

. That MomcTto aH*Le"bf suddenly,
if entered lus head tliref^ working un to The

hadnoncedofateiiLit fort .^ And Wfe

had told him he might perhans somcon\ who

for a fact that It ^^•al not a Lebedyev faicw

“.•^^/hhely by his reckoning to b<rf I ho was struck by the

jet toe villa to Myshkin/tLkhig fhat he might

toe previous tenant had not hf<5n^° of the fact that

5?ir. a?- i,£fe ri

, 0 . j:

-^i'TLuMT'TcZi’ e”*"-

to the same subject," muttered Lebedyev, wriggling gleefully on
one side of the prince.

Myshkin stopped.

"Darya Alexeyevna has a villa at Pavlovsk too.”

"Well?”

"And a certain person is a friend of hers and evidently intends
to visit her frequently there, with an object.”

“Well?"

"Aglaia Ivanovna. . . .”

"Ach, tliat’s enough, Lebedyev! ’’ Myshkin interrupted, with
an unpleasant sensation, as tliough he had been touched on a
tender spot. "All that’s ... a mistake. I'd rather you'd tell
me when are you moving? The sooner tlie better for me, as I
am at a hotel. . . .”

As tliey talked, they had left tlie garden and, wathout going
back into the house, crossed the yard and reached the gate.

"Well, what could be better?” Lebedyev suggested at last.
"Come straight here to me from tlie hotel to-day, and the day
after to-morrow we mil all move to Pavlovsk together."

"I'll see," said Myshkin thoughtfully, and he went out at
the gate.

Lebedyev looked after him. He ivas struck by Myshkin’s
sudden absent-mindedness. He had forgotten even to say good-
bye as he went out; he did not even nod, which seemed out of
keeping with what Lebedyev knew of Myshkin’s graciousness
and courtesy.

CHAPTER III

I T was past eleven. Myshkin knew that he could find at the
Epanchins’ house no one but the general himself, who might
be kept in town by his duties and yet not be at home. He
thought that the general might perhaps take him at once to
Pavlovsk, but he particularly wanted to make one call before
then. At the risk of missing Epanchin and putting off his visit
to Pavlovsk till the next day, Myshkin decided to look for the
house to which he so particularly wished to go.

This visit was, however, risky for him in one respect. He was '
perplexed and hesitated. He knew he would find the house in
Gorohovy Street, not far from Sadovy Street, and decided to go
there, hoping that on his way there he would succeed in making
up his mind.

As he approached the point where the two streets intersect,

197 G»

f,'’“‘''^'’''5' 'W- hS^ “>™S «. liS:

lowarcls u to vcnfv liis rnntV^i ‘^^•''OsitylieAV'iIL-f'H

ParticJjarly dislike 'to“’ii^f

a large gloomy house of S e, • ° right. It was

b^ill^at^tlfp^"^*?"^*° architecture"" a’ fewl

ouiii at the end of the lasf , ^ ^‘•"^ Houses of this kinH

windows. Usually there is a 6'^‘f'gs on the ground-floor

Myshkin rrad- examining the inc • .•

citizen Rogozh'in .? of tlie heredif anr °°

him ^n|Sy '^h^"’ ‘h*-'

riny i>eavy- th^ floor, and

and riiraing.^oS ^rcugh some

eyes and” twistine gazing wilh'’tiwH"^^ ^°r a

bewilderment ac^tn^ rcoufh into a stnA^*^ frightened
incredibU ^’d he felt the of utter

?9S '°°’

"Parfyon, perhaps I've come at the wrong moment? I can
go away, you know," he said at last with embarrassment.

"Not at all — not at alll" said Parfyon, recovering himself at
last. "You are welcome. Come in."

They addressed one another like intimate friends. In Moscow
they had often spent long hours together, and there had been
meetings, moments of which had left a lasting memory in their
hearts. Now they had not met for over three months.

Rogozhin's face did not lose its pallor and there still was a
faint spasmodic hvitching to be seen in it. Though he welcomed
his guest, his extraordinary confusion still persisted. While he
led Myshkin in and had made him sit down in an easy chair, the
latter happened to turn to him and stood still, impressed by his
strange and heavy gaze. Something seemed to transfix Myshkin,
and at the same time some memory came back to him — some-
thing recent, painful, and gloomy. Not sitting down but stand-
ing motionless, he looked Rogozhin straight in the eyes for some
time : at the first moment they seemed to gleam more brightly.
At last Rogozhin smiled, though stiU rather disconcerted and
hardly knowing what he was doing.

"Why do you stare so?" he muttered. "Sit down."

Myshkin sat down,

"Parfyon," said he, "tell me plainly, did you know that I
was coming to Petersburg to-day or not?"

"I thought you were coming, and, you see, I was not mis-
taken,” Rogozhin added, smiling sarcastically. "But how could
I tell you would come to-day?”

M)rehkin was even more struck by a certain harsh abruptness
and strange irritability in the question.

"Even if you had knorvn I should come to-day, why be so
cross about it?" murmiured M3rehkin gently, in confusion.

"But why do you ask?”

"As I got out of the train this morning, I saw two eyes that
looked at me just as you did just now from behind."

"You don’t say sol Whose eyes were they?” Rogozhin
muttered suspiciously.

Myshkin fancied that he shuddered.

"I don’t know; I almost think I fancied it in the crowd. I
begin to be always fancying things. Do you know, Parfyon, my
friend, I feel almost as I did five yetirs ago, when I used to
have fits.”

"Well, perhaps it was your fancy; I don’t know,” muttered
Parfyon.

.199

The friendly smile on his face was very unbecoming^ to him
at that moment, as though there were something disjointed in
it, and however much he tried he could not put it together.

"Are you going abroad again?” he asked, and suddenly
added: "And do you remember how we came from Pskov in
the same carriage together last autumn ? I was coming here, and
you ... in your cloak, do you remember, and the gaiters?”

And Rogozhin suddenly laughed, this time with open mah'ce,
as though relieved that he had succeeded in expressing it in some
wny.

"Are you settled here for good?”

"Yes, I am at home. Where else should I be? ”

"It’s a long time since we’ve met. I’ve heard such things
about you, not like yourself.”

"People will say anything,” Rogozhin observed drily.
"You’ve turned oS all your followers, and you stay in your
old home and live quietly. Well, that’s a good thing. Is it
your own house, or does it belong to all of you in common?”

"The house is my mother's. That’s the way to her rooms
across the corridor.”

"And where is your brother living? ’ ’

"My brother Semyon Semyonovitch is in the lodge.”

"Is he married?”

"He is a widower. Why do you want to know? ”

Myshkin looked at him and did not answer; he was suddenly
thoughtful and seemed not to have heard the question. Rogozhin
waited and did not insist. They were silent for a little.

"I guessed it was your house a hundred paces away, as I came
along,” said Myshkin.

"How was that?”

"I don’t know at all. Your house has a look of your whole
family and your Rogozhin manner of life; but if you ask me
how I know that, I can’t explain it. A disordered fancy, I
suppose. It makes me imeasy indeed that it should trouble me
so much. I had an idea before that you lived in such a house,
but, as soon as I saw it, I thought at once: ‘That's just the sort
of house he ought to have.' ” '

"I say!” Rogozhin smiled vaguely, not quite undcmtandiog
Myshkin’s obscure thought. "It was my grandfather built the
house,” he observed. "It was always tenanted by the Hlud-
yakovs, who arc Skoptsy, and they are our tenants still.”

"It’s so dark! You are living here in darkness,” said
Myshkin, looking round the room.

200

It was a big room, lofty and dark, filled with furniture of all
sorts, for the most part big business tables, bureaux, cupboards,
in which were kept business books and papers of some sort.
The \vide sofa, covered in red morocco, obviously served
Rogozhin as a bed. Myshkin noticed two or three books lying
on the table, at which Rogozhin had made him sit down; one
of them, Solovyev's “History", was open and had a book-mark
in it. On the walls there were a few oil-paintings in tarnished
gold frames. They were dark and grimy, and it was difficult
to make out what they represented. One full-length portrait
attracted Myshkin's notice. It was the portrait of a man of fifty,
wearing a frock-coat, very long, though of European cut, and
two medals round his ne^. He had a very scanty short grey
beard, a yellow rvrinkled face with suspicious, secretive and
melancholy eyes.

“Is that your father?" asked Myshkin.

“Yes, it is," Rogozhin answered with an unpleasant grin, as
though expecting some rude jest at his dead father’s e.xpense
to follow immediately.

“He wasn’t one of the Old Believers, was he?”

“No, he used to go to church; but it’s true he used to say
that the old form of belief was truer. He had a great respect for
the Skoptsy too. This used to be his study. Why do you ask
was he an Old Believer?"

“Will you have your wedding here?"

“Y-yes," answered Rogozhin, almost starting at the un-
expected question.

“WiU it be soon?” _

“You know yourself it doesn’t depend on me.”

"Parfyon, I am not your enemy, and I have no intention of
interfering with you in any way. 1 tell you that as I’ve told
you once before, almost on a similar occasion. ^Vhen your
wedding was arranged in Moscow, I didn’t hinder you, you
know that. The first time ske rushed to me of herself, mmost on
the wedding day, begging me 'to save’ her from you. It’s her
own words I am repeating to you. Afterwards she ran away
from me too. You found her again and were going to marry her,
and now they tell me she ran away from you again here. Is
that true? Lebedyev told me so; that’s why I’ve come. But
that you’d come together agmn I learnt for the first time only
yesterday in the train from one of your former friends,
Zalyozhev, if you care to know. I came here with a purpose. I
\vanted to persuade /i-er to go abroad for the sake of her health,

201

tomy mind, mii

.toad mysdf; it lotharS,'*"’* ‘?1“ ">

^ j absolute trutli Tf I'f' 'Without me. I am

™ade jt up again, I shan't ^h 'nw ^ ^rue that you’ve

come again io see you Shef V and I’ll nLIr

because I’ve alway^ Seen o^n ^ deceive you!

ce^ed from you what I d,iKbo^?/°“-. J “^ver Ion-

yj. myseIf.''S#“:„5;^‘ y*;;'“”tad to diSb orto^to^

S S';"® “'■ we a an« fS®- • ' ">»” wh.t you

ad that for a fact T ^ different toras.

Stay with rrao „ I.-.,, ..

v™hivS-biiS1^/®^Snfd^uri\r-^

Sf”® -dTn l“d

'men f am >h ^ ^

“ °a"SE S'";r“eS“ 2 ’dra' I »» .way,

■SiS^-” ' “I?’*'®"®. »*

^ed in the matter," he

202

, answered. "It’s settled without consulting us. You see, we love
in diSerent v,’a.ys too. There's a difference in everything,” he
went on softly after a pause, "You say you love her with pity.
There's no sort of pity for her in me. And she hates me too,
more than anything. I dream of her every night now, always
that she is laughing at me with other men. And that’s what
she is doing, brother. She is going to the altar with me and
she lias forgotten to give me a tliought, as though she were
changing her shoe. Would you believe it, I haven’t seen her
for five days, because I don’t dare to go to her. She’ll ask me :
‘What have you come for?’ She has covered me with shame.”

"Shame? How can you 1 ”

"As though he didn’t know I Why, she ran away with you
from me on the very wedding day — ^you said so yourself just
now.”

"Why, you don’t believe yourself that ...”

"Didn’t she shame me in Moscow with that officer, Zemtyu-
zhnikov? I know for certain she did, and even after she had
fixed the wedding day.”

"Impossible!” cried Myshkin.

"I Imow it for a fact,” Rogozhin persisted with conviction.
"She is not that sort of woman, you say? It’s no good telling
me she is not that sort of woman, brother. That’s nonsense.
With you she won’t be that sort of woman, and will be horrified
herself, maybe, at such doings. But that’s just what she is with
me. Thai’s the fact. She looks at me as the lowest refuse. I
know for a fact that simply to make a laughing-stock of me she
got up an affair with Keller, that officer, the man who boxes. . . .
You don’t know, of course, the tricks she played me at Moscow.
And the money — the money I’ve wasted! ...”

"And . . . and you are marrying her now! What will you
do afterwards?” Myshkin asked in horror.

Rogozhin bent a lowering, terrible gaze on Myslikin and made
no answer.

"It’s five days since I’ve been with her,” he went on after a
minute’s pause. "I am afraid of her turning me out. 'I am
still mistress in my own house,' she says. 'If I choose I will
get rid of you altogether and go abroad.’ (She told me that
already, that she go abroad, he observed, as it were in
parenthesis, with a peculiar look into Myshkin’s eyes.) Some-
times, it’s true, she only does this to scare me. She is always
laughing at me somehow. But another time she really scowls
and is sullen and won’t say a word. That’s what I am afraid of.

203

&a"SfY£“l£

have seen before, thoSh she A?iiv? 5 ^ *'■' ““7 haver

onr wedding is to be, I dSe not own "hen

bndegroom when I am afmid tn sort of

aBd when I can bea??t Sinee/r S° here I sit,

behind some comer ’ °°

'ratch almost till daybreak at her "eate r ^ °°

gomg on. And she must haw fenci^ there ^vas some-
f you have done ?o me ^hf “.f ^he window,

out I d deceived you?’ i couldn^f she said, if you had found
know yourself.' ” couldn t stand it, and I said- ‘You

— V. jL tooK ner r * x was alwavs

promised to many me; ySlre^ t once: 'Y^

do 3mu know what you^e now^*T^f^/u family, and

, You told her?"-^ are now? I told her what she il”
''Wdi?”

'h^htohn^n^^^^ perhaps,, ^e said,

o 3 n f? r -‘S. « s:

-rj^g^ble!” cried Myshkin.

flashing e Js“ '“Fo? repeated quieUy, but ivith

Sr wS lZ“i I d '» <hh>w“ e?Lt 'r? ^ J-™ fh-^ve

‘h?s r wlX^sf - SornrS

Zalyorhev. “■«> she railed a“„°.'' °!

called
ved me

Parfyon Semyonovitch, when I am out- 5"^^' you tea,

204 ' ^ ^ ^““gry

■' V

by now,' She came back from the threatre alone. 'They are
cowards and sneaks,' she said. 'They are afraid of you, and
they frighten me. They say: "He won’t go away like that. He
will cut your throat, maybe." But I'll go into my bedroom and
not even lock the door — so mucli for my being afraid of you !
So that you may see and know it. Have y«u had any tea?’
'No,' I said, 'and I am not going to.' 'I've done my part, and
this behaviour doesn’t suit you at all.’ And she did as she said,
she didn't lock her door. In tlie morning she came out and
laughed. ‘Have you gone crazy?’ she asked. 'Why, you’ll
die of hunger!’ 'Forgive me,' said I. ‘I don’t want to forgive
you. I won’t marry you, I’ve said so. Have you been sitting
on tliat chair aU night? Haven’t you been asleep?’ 'No,'
said I, 'I haven't been asleep.’ 'How stupid I And you won't
have breakfast or dinner again, I suppose?’ 'I told you I
won’t. Forgive me,’ 'If only you knew how ill this suits you I
It’s like a saddle on a cow. You don’t fancy you are going lo
scare me by that? Wliat does it matter to me that you are
hungry? As though that would frighten me ! ' She was angry,
but not for long, she soon began gibing at me again, and I
wondered how it was that there was no anger in her; for she’ll
resent a thing a long time, she’ll resent a thing rvith other people
for a long time. Then it entered my head that she thinks so
poorly of me that she can’t even feel much resentment against
me. And that’s the truth! 'Do you know what tlie Pope of
Rome is?’ she asked. 'I’ve heard,’ I said. 'You’ve never
learnt any universal history, Parfyon Semyonovitch,' said she.
'I never learnt anything,’ I said. 'I’ll give you a story to read
then,’ she said. 'There was once a Pope, and he was angn/
rvith an emperor, and that emperor knelt barefoot before his
palace for timee days -without eating or drinking till he forgave
him. What do you suppose that emperor thought to himself,
and what vows did he take whUe he was kneeling there? Stay,’
«he said, 'I’ll read it to you myself.’ She jumped up and brought
the book. ‘It’s poetry,’ she said; and began reading me in
verse how that emperor had vowed during those three days to
avenge himself on the Pope for it. 'Don’t you like tliat,
Parfyon Semyonovitch?' said she, 'That’s all true,’ said I, 'that
you’ve read.’ ‘Aha ! you say it’s true yourself. Then perhaps
you are making vows: "When she is married to me I’ll make
her remember it all ! I’ll humble her to my heart’s content ! ’’ ’

‘I don't know,’ said I, 'perhaps I am thinking so.' ‘How can
you say you don’t know?’ ‘Why, I don’t know,’ said I; 'I

20'i

jr^rn

»4 a»d MmXL£fT'?^°“>,'“ "■"*»« fet , ■

y“» “Sto"'”?!™ “W ^nd Wat

afiSd Semyonovitch.' she Sri >! “airy

"“thing but SSn I aih

M down, she said; 'thev'U hrin„ ^"y^^ay. What’s better?

-e- rS'X flSer ' 1." “V ° "o
Yod'SntSK; ' »VS

iook]!^ ^ y°'^ think youielf??

deiaSir ‘“**d “er-.

Wi. a,„, „p "•'’”* "’•"“■i d. hopdess

I won't hinder vou S taken leave.

hiwS'' “ sSS'hin^^^l];’

■■Oo yoa w whatl” .,-a » “°"®“

Md his eyes kindled ^“Sozhin, suddenly mnr

sot over

SSfMSZSfh " A S [, ^'“. ”«*■>'? d.iaaSte

" ••y«u‘Ly ,

"No, I believ™S-1,™V°'‘™''?”Myslddnio,,*ed

dtao. «„e .ba.U5?4iS,W“Si‘-tF^^^“

206 ^

A certain malice and an urgent desire to express liimsclf at
once glowed in his face.

"Well, there’s no distinguishing your love from hate,” said
Mj’slikin, smiling. "It will pass and then perhaps the trouble
wail be worse. I tell you this, brotlicr Parfyon . . ."

"That I shall murder her?”

Myshkb started.

"You will hate her bitterly for Uiis love, for aU this torture
you are suffering now. What is strangest of all to me is that
she can again mean to many you. When I heard it yesterday,
I scarcely believed it, and it made me so unhappy ! You see, she
has thrown you up twice and run away on the wedding day:
so she has some foreboding. What does she find in you now?
It’s not your money; tliat’s nonsense. And no doubt you’ve
wasted a good deal of it by now. Can it be simply to get a
husband? Why, she could find plenty of others. Any man
would be better tl:an you, because 5mu really may murder her;
and she knows that only too well now, perhaps. Is it because
you love her so passionately? It's true tliat may be it. I’ve
heard there are women who rvant just that sort of love. . . .
Only ...” Myshkin stopped and sank into thought,

"Why arc you smiling at my father’s portrait again?” asked
Rogozhln, who was watcliing every movement, every change in
Myslikin's face wth e.xtraordinary intentness.

"Wiry did I smile? Oh, it struck me that if it w'cre not for
this burden laid upon you, if it were not for this love, you would
most likely have become exactly like your father, and in a very
short time too. You would have settled down quietly in this
house with an obedient and submissive wife; you would have
been stem and sparing of words, trusting no one and feeling no
desire to; doing nothing but heap up money in dreary silence.
At the most you would sometimes have praised the old books
and been interested in the Old Believers' fashion of crossing
themselves, and that only in your old age. . . .”

"Laugh away; but, do you know, she said the very same
thing not long ago, when she too was looking at that portrait!
It’s queer how you both say the same thing now.”

"Why, has she been in your house?” asked Myshkin with
interest.

"Yes. She looked a long time at the portrait and asked me
about mv father. 'You’d be just such another,' she laughed to
me afterWrds. ‘You have strong passions, Parfyon Semyon-
ovitch,’ she said: ‘such passions that you might have been

207

S/h ^lieve ifp'^r she said. (Those

ainL !-iv^y such a thing.) <You wouW

ail this siUiness, and as vnfi ow.^ have soon eiven iin

would have begun savin/monevandt '^"^^"cated man, you
father in this house with & have settled do^m like you?

f™? ‘° “It ir^e cfe. yot '">«ld ?™

your money tliat you would hav^' if ° grown so fond of

™t°v“ “<1 It"" difd ote “P “ ‘"•o !>« Vn

thinp^'n ^ passionate in evnnrth^^^ your bags of

™ag to a passion.’ That ivac " ‘-'^erything; you puch everv

■mltXf t» b3;. .kTsL^S" ■"«.h.™ h,li:

Yo™jlgM ’’<”|'“S

gtuu her respect? And if you wajit to, you can't be without
hope? I said just now that I was unable to comprehend what
makes her many' you. But though I can’t understand it, I have
no doubt that tliere must be a sufficient, sensible reason. She
is convinced of j'our love, but she must befieve in some of your
good qualities also. It can’t be otliciwise. What you said just
now confirms this. You told me yourself tliat she has found it
possible to speak to you in quite a different way from how she
has spoken and behaved to you before. You are suspicious and
jealous, and that has made }'ou exaggerate everytMng you’ve
noticed amiss. Of course she doesn't think so ill of you as you
say. If slie did, it would be as good as deliberatel3' going to
be dro\vned or murdered to many* you. Is tliat possible? Wio
would deliberately go to be drowned or murdered?”

Parfyon listened witli a bitter smile to Myshkin’s eager words.
His conviction, it seemed, was not to be shaken.

"How dreadfully j'ou look at me now, Parfyon ! ” broke from
Myslikin TOth a feeling of dread.

"To be drowned or murdered 1 ” said Rogozhin at last. "Ha !
Why, that's just why she is marrying me, because she expects
to be murdered ! Do you mean to say, prince, you've never yet
had a notion of what's at the root of it all?”

"I don’t understand you.”

"Well, perhaps you really don't understand. He, he! They
do say you are . . . not quite right. She loves another man —
take that in! Just as I love her now, she loves another man
now. And do you know who that otlier man is? It's you]
What! you didn’t know?”

"Me?”

"You. She has loved you ever since that day — her birthday.
Only she knows it’s out of the question to many you, because
she thinks she would disgrace you and ruin your whole life.
'Everyone kno\vs what I am,' she says. She still harps upon
that. She told me all this straight out to my face. She is afraid
of ruining and of disgracing you; but I don’t matter, she can
marry me. So much for what she thinks of me ! Notice that
too.”

"But why did she run away from you to me and . . . from
me . . .”

"And from j'ou to me! Hal Why, all sorts of Sungs come
into her head. She is always in a sort of fever now. One day
she'll cry out : 'I’ll make an end of myself and marry you ! Let
the wedding be soon.’ She hurries things on, fixes the day, but

209

uoa laiows! You’ve if- come
shakes with fever. And whaf- f- thorJ . Jaughs and

a^-ay from you? m her ha4grun

reahsed how much she loved von Tt° she

stey vdth you. You said iu|°“; for her to

Moscow. That’s not true- ihf «nT ^ ^ ^ out in

herself. 'Fi.v the dav.^e said^T^ straight from you oi

teve drowned herself lone aeo if cf. ” cnes. She would
toUi. She doesn't do thlt Hat's the

M than the onter. It's I ™ more dioad-

tiers* -• .?

can I let her come to that^ ^ ^ How

"I didn’t come hie ^4 4^°?^°“ that. . . »

'' had in my mfrd . “«> Par^'on; I teU you it

^asn’t fr JouriS^l^bu'iSi^r?-^ that idea and that

have known it? "Pset? Can

That s all jealousy, Parfr^n- ^ sr^nse me! ”

all immensely ”’ \iihl .™°^hidness. You have
agiteton. u-hat are _vou dohi<T? muttered in 'vdolent

hand a knife snatched from

table, and put it back wLlilt k “P

^.°V, , been before, beside the

i leel as though T h-i« i-

^ forese^nl^.'^^j^jir'^ coming to Peters-
wanx xo come here; I wanted to ^cnt on. “I didn't

Joini?'/ good-byff ff h, root

- • . But what are you

As he talked Myshkin u

k°'Te from tJJe Srte^Sd P^‘*^d up

^ it on the mWe^T? ^°S02hin took it out

"'”*“"‘''’-'^^‘“^-'>f%no«U....h.hnd.h.

beeri twice taken out of his hands, Rogozhin snatched it up in
angry vexation, put it in the book, and flung the book on
another table.

“Do you cut the pages with it?” Myshkin asked, but almost
mechanically, still apparently absorbed in deep thought.

“Yes.”

“But it’s a garden knife?”

“Yes, it is. Can’t one cut a book \vith a garden knife?”

"But it’s , . . quite a new one.”

“What if it is new? Mayn’t I buy a new knife?” Rogozhin„
cried in a perfect frenzy at last, growing more exasperated at
every word.

Myshkin started and looked intently at Rogozhin.

"Ach, we are a setl” he laughed suddenly, rousing himself
completely. "Excuse me, brother, when my head is heavy, as
it is now, and my illness ... I become utterly, utterly absent-
minded and ridiculous, I meant to ask you about something
quite different. . . . I’ve forgotten it now. Good-bye 1 . .

“Not that %vay,” said Rogozhin,

"I've forgotten.”

“This way, this way, come, ru show you.”

CHAPTER IV

T hey went through the same rooms that Myshkin had
passed through already; Rogozhin walked a little in front,
Myshkin followed him. They went into a big room. On the walls
there were several pictures, all of them portraits of bishops or
landscapes in which nothing could be distinguished. Over the
door leading into the next room there hung a picture of rather
strange shape, about two yards in breadth and not more than a
foot high. It was a painting of our Saviour who had just been
taken from the cross. Myshkin glanced at it as though recalling
something, but he was about to pass through the door without
stopping. He felt very depressed and wanted to get out of this
house as soon as possible. But Rogozhin suddenly stopped
before the picture.

"All these pictures here were bought for a rouble or two by
my father at auctions,” he said. "He liked pictures. A man
who knows about paintings looked at all of them. 'They are
rubbish,’ he said; ‘but that one, tliat picture over the door there,
which was bought for a couple of roubles too,’ he said, 'was of

2II

-value.’ When my father was alive one man turned up who was
' ready to give three hundred and fifty roubles for it; but
Savelyev, a merchant who is very fond of pictures, went up to
four hundred for it, and last week he olTercd my brother Semyon
Semyonoviich five hundred for it. I’ve kept it for myself.”

‘‘Why, it . . . it’s a copy of a Holbein,” said Myshkin, who
had by now examined the picture, ‘‘and, though I don’t know
much about it, 1 think it's a very good copy. 1 saw tlie picture
abroad and I can't forget it. But . , . what’s the matter?”

Rogozhin suddenly turned away from the picture and went
on. No doubt his preoccupation and a peculiar, strangely irrit-
able mood which had so suddenly shown itself in him might have
explained this abruptness. Yet it seemed strange to Myshkin
that the conversation, wliich had not been begun by hmi.
should have been broken off so suddenlif without Rogozlrin’s
answering him.

‘‘And by the way, Lyov Nikolayevitch, I’ve long meant to
ask you, do you believe in God ? ” said Rogozliin suddenly, after
liaving gone on a few steps.

‘‘How strangely you question mo and . . . look at me!”
LIyshkin could not help observing.

"I like looking at that picture,” Rogozhin muttered after a
pause, seeming again to have forgotten his question.

‘‘At that picture 1” cried Myslikin, strueV: by a sudden
thought. ‘‘At tliat picture! MTiy, tliat picture might make some
people lose their faith.”

"That’s what it is doing,” Rogozhin assented unexpectcdly-
They were just at the front door.

"What?” Myshkin stopped short. "What do you mean?
I was almost joking, and you are so serious! And why do you
ask whether I believe in God? ’’

"Oh, nothing. I meant to ask you before. Many people
don’t beh’eve nowadays. Is it true— you’ve lived abroad— a man
told me when he was drunk that there are more who don’t
believe in God among us in Russia tiian in all other countries?
‘It’s easier for us than for them,’ he said, ‘because we have gone
farther than they have.’ . . .”

Rogozhin smiled bitterly. WTren he had asked his question,
he suddenly opened the door and, holding the handle, waited for
Myshkin to go out. Jlyshkin was surprised, but he went out.
Rogozhin followed him on to the landing and closed the door
behind him. They stood facing one another, as though neither
knew where they were and what they had to do next.

212

"Good-bye, then,” said Myshkin, holding out his hand.

"Good-bye,” said Rogozhin, pressing tightly though
mechanic^ly the hand that was licld out to him.

Myslikin went down a step and turned round.

"As to the question of faith,” he began, smiling (he evidently
did not want to leave Rogozlnn like that) and brightening up at
a sudden reminiscence, "as to the question of faith, I had four
different conversations in two days last week. I came in tlie
morning by the new railway and talked for four hours with a
man in the train; we made friends on the spot. I had heard a
great deal about him beforehand and had heard he was an
atheist, among other things. He really is a very learned man,
and I was delighted at the prospect of talking to a really learned
man. What's more, he is a most unusuaUy well-bred man, so
that he talked to me quite as if I were his equal in ideas and
attainments. He doesn’t believe in God. Only, one thing
struck me : that he seemed not to be talking about that at all,
the whole time; and it struck me just because whenever I have
met unbelievers before, or read their books, it always seemed
to me that they were speaking and writing in tlieir books about
something quite different, although it seemed to be about that
on the surface. I said so to him at the time, but I suppose I
didn't say so clearl}^, or did not know how to express it, for he
didn’t understand. In the evening I stopped for the night at a
provincial hotel, and a murder had been committed there the
night before, so that everyone was talking about it when I
arrived. Two peasants, middle-aged men, fnends who had
known each other for a long time and were not drunk, had had
tea and were meaning to go to bed in the same room. But one
had noticed during those last two days that the other was wear-
ing a silver watch on a yellow bead chain, which he seems not
to have seen on him before. The man was not a thief; he was
an honest man, in fact, and bj' a peasant’s standard by no means
poor. But he %vas so taken with tliat watch and so fascinated
by it that at last he could not restrain himself. He took a knife,
and when his friend had turned away, he approached him
cautiously from behind, took aim, turned his ej^es heavenwards,
crossed himself, and pra5nng fervently 'God forgive me for
Christ’s sake!’ he cut his friend's throat at one stroke like a
sheep and took his watch.”

Rogozhin went off into peals of laughter; he laughed as though
he were in a sort of fit. It was positively strange to see such
laughter after the gloomy mood that had preceded it.

“I do like that! Yes tViof u i

convulsively, gasping for beafe eveiytWng!" he cried

God at aU, while thf other Slieves S. beheve in

he prays as he murders men 1 thoroughly that

vented that, brother 1 Ha-ha-ha l’ have in-

Next morning I went out fn tr,i everything."

Itilf “ Rogozhin w^^uS“***^ Mysbkin

' quivered with spa^odic *°^gb his lips

^nken soldier in a terriblv laughter. "I saw a

^he wooden pavement. He came up to ^bout

silver^ T you haven’t ^uy a silver cross,

off ^ “ bis hands a crm^hl kopecks. It’s

thafir°° ^ 'brfy blue ribbo^i! have just taken
LfiS-t it was only tin Tf rnr,^ u*^^' could see at nnre

tS^'^ ®^tine pattern. I toS:®out^t comers, of a

them to him, and at once nnt fK^ ‘ twenty kopecks and rave
could see from his face hnw i round my neck* and I

I wf= o "O doubt a^ut^t'^^^i® '^bat he

upon c^ed away by the rush nf buie, brother,

pen me in Russia; I had ’Uipressions that burst

rnfmo- ^ sro^ 7p "“^bing about rSe

of my country were juaiticulate, and my

abroad. Well I w/it fantastic during those

later ^dden m those weak and d God only knows

woman and tho r. u ^^by m her arms 9hp ^ ^ ^ Peasant

41:';^:; "it « “Si; ss

alwavS-'^^''°bon. ‘What are vou ber crossing heiself

uess bons in those dayl ) ‘gI d T

Him mth Jit u- b-om heaven tLp b has just such glad-

S' i" U-oi. wS, to'eS ™ womS.“

toe she was a mother . and^^if^^, ® woman ! It's

woman was the wife of that^ld^b® l^ows, very likely that
asked ™ a qaaetion j», listen, pSlyon. You

> uere is my answer. The essence
ZI/J

of religious feeling does not come under any sort of reasoning or
atheism, and has nothing to do with any crimes or mis-
demeanours. There is sometliing else here, and there will always
be something else — something that the atheists will for ever
slur over; they will always be talking of something else. But
the chief tiring is that }'ou will notice it more clearly and quickly
in the Russian heart tlian anywhere else. And this is my con-
clusion. It's one of the chief convictions which I have gathered
from our Russia. There is work to be done, Parfyon ! There
is work to be done in our Russian world, believe me ! Remember
how we used to meet in Moscow and talk at one time . , . and I
didn’t mean to come back here now, and I thought to meet you
not at all like this I Oh, well! . . . Good-b3'e till we meet!
May God be with you!”

He turned and went down the stairs.

"Lj'ov Nikolayevitch I” Parfyon shouted from above when
Myshkin had reached tlie first half -landing. “Have you that
cross j'ou bought from that soldier on j'ou?"

“Yes,” and Myshkin stopped again.

'^‘Show me.”

Something strange again! He thought a moment, went
upstairs again, and pulled out the cross to show him without
taking it off his neck.

“Give it me,” said Rogozhin.

“Why? Would you . . .” M5fshkin (rid not want to part
with the cross.

“I’ll wear it, and give you mine for jmu to wear.”

"You want to change crosses? Certainly, Parfyon, I am
delighted. We will be brothers!”

Myshkin took off his tin cross, Parfyon his gold one, and they
changed. Parfyon did not speak. With painful surprise
Myshkin noticed that the same mistrustfulness, the same bitter,
almost ironical smile still lingered on the face of his adopted
brother: at moments, an}r\vay, it was plainly to be seen. In
silence at least Rogozhin took Myshkin's hand and stood for
some time as though unable to make up his mind. At last he
suddenly drew him after him, saying in a scarcely audible voice :
"Come along.” They crossed the landing of the first floor and
rang at the door facing the one'they had come out of. It was
soon opened to them. A bent old woman, wearing a black
knitted kerchief, bowed low to Rogozhin without spe^ng. He
quiddy asked her some question, and, without waiting for an
answer, led Myshkin through the rooms. Again they went

215

through dark rooms of an extraordinary chilly deanlincis,
coldly and severely furnished witli old-fashioned furniture under
clean white covers. Without announcing their arrival, Rogozhin
led Myshkin into a small room like a drawing-room, divided in
two by a polislicd mahogany wall with doors at each end,
probably leading to a bedroom. In tire comer of the drawing-
room by the stove a little old woman was sitting in an arm-chair.
She did not look very old; she had a fairly healthy, pleasant
round face, but she was quite grey, and it could be seen from
the first glance that she had become quite childish. She was
wearing a black woollen dress, a large black kerchief on her
shoulders, and a clean while cap with black ribbons. Her feet
were resting on a footstool. Another clean little old woman,
rather older, was with her. She too was in mourning, and she
too wore a wiiite cap; she was silent, knitting a stocking, and
was probably some sort of a companion. It might be fancied
that they were both alwaj's silent. The hrst old woman, s(-cing
Rogozhin and Myshkin, smiled to tfiem, and nodded her head
several times to them as a sign of satisfaction.

"Mother," said Rogozhin, kissing her hand, "tlris is my great
friend. Prince Lyov Nikolayevitch Myshkin. I’ve exchanged
crosses wih him. He was like a brother to me at one time in
Moscow; he did a great deal for me. Bless him, moUier, as
though it were j-our own son you were blessing. Hay, old
mother, like this. Let me put your fingers right. . .

But before Parfyon had time to touch her, the old woman
had raised her right hand, put her two fingers against her tliumb,
and three times devoutly made tlie sign of tlic cross over
Jlyshkin. Then she nodded kindly, affccuonalcly to him again.

"Come along, Lyov Nikolayevitch," said Parfyon, "I only
brought you here for that. . .

When they came out on to the staircase again, he added:

"You know she understands notliing that's said to her, and
she didn’t understand a word I said, but she blessed you; so
she wanted to do it of herself. . . . Well, good-bye, it’s time
you were going, and I too.”

And he opened his door.

"At least let me embrace you at pairing, you strange fellow,"
cried Myshkin, looking at him with tender reproach; and he
would have embraced him.

But Parfj'on had scarcely raised his arms when he let them
fall again. He could not bring himself to it. He turned away
so as not to look at My'shkin; he didn't want to embrace him.

216

"Don’t be afraid! Though I’ve taken 5'our cross, I won't
murder you for your watch!” he muttered indistinctly, with a
sudden strange laugh.

But all at once his whole face changed; he turned horribly
pale, his lips trembled, his eyes glowed. He raised his arms,
embraced Myshkin warmly, and said breathlessly:

"Well, take her then, since it’s fated! She is yours! I give
in to you! . . . Remember Rogozhin ! ”

''And turning from Myshkin without looking at him, he went
hurriedly in and slammed the door after him.

CHAPTER V

I T was by iiow late, almost half-past two, and Myshkin did not
find General Epanchin at home. Leaving a card, he made up
his mind to go to the hotel "The Scales”, and inquire for Kolya,
and if he were not there, to leave a note for him. At "The
Scales” they told him that Nikolay Ardallonovitch "had gone
out in the morning, but as he went out he left word that if an}'-
one should ask for him, they were to say that he might be back
at three o’clock. But if he were not back by half-past three, it
would mean that he had taken the train to Pavlovsk to Madame
Epanchin's villa and would dine there.” Myshkin sat down to
wait for him, and, as he was there, asked for dinner.

Kolya had not made his appearance at half-past three, nor
even at four. Myshkin went out and walked away mechanically.
At the beginning of summer in Petersburg there are sometimes
exquisite days — ^bright, still and hot. By good fortune this day
was one of those rare days. For some time Myshkin wandered
aimlessly. He knew the to%vn very little. He stood still some-
times in squares, on bridges, or at cross-roads facing cei^n
houses; once he went into a confectioner’s to rest. Sometimes
he began watcliing the passers-by with great interest; but most
of the time he scarcely noticed the people in the street, nor
where he was going. He was painfully strained and restless, and
at the same time he felt an extraordinary craviirg for solitude.
He longed to be alone and to give himself up quite passively to
this agonising emotion without seeking to escape from it. He
loathed the thought of facing the questions that w’ere surging
in his heart and his mind. "Am I to blame for all this?” he
muttered to liimself, almost unconscious of his own words.

217

tile Tsarekoe Sycio linc^ Soh^ud^E 12 ^ h
a new warm impulse seized unnnh f? become unbearable;
tne darkness in which his soul moment

i^y of brightocss. He tooTi

impatient haste to get off- but nf PavJovsk and was in

^mething, and tliat somethin2w2 a
he was perhaps inclined to imat^e ^

^at m ^e train when he suddf»^ a almost taken his

just taken on the floor and went the facket he had only

mg and confused. Some tiELer t .2 P°"der-

denly to recall something- fl! the street he seemed sud-

thing veiy stange. Ee^tihie

suddenly realised tliat he had worried him. He

had been doing for a lone ume ih ®°^atl^g which he

of It till tliat minute. For some’hm?”^^ aware

Scales", and even before

bepin suddenly lookine for snmr>fK- at intervals

a long while, half an hour ft2 ^°’'gat it for

ah^ut him again uneasily. ^ben begin looking

till tten qiSS^unE'EJsSE^^ in him^lf tJus morbid and
mind Mother recollection wfcuch flashed upon his

remembered that, at Sie rnommt ilh ^ extremely. He
he was absorbed in looking for <;omitv became aware that
the pavement before a shoo standing on

the goods exposed In it iT’ /^amining with great
whether he really had stood hpfnrL ^ must find out
jninutes, perhaps, before- wh 1^°P ''Indow just now,
whetlier be wasn't mi’ctaken ’ Did^tw hadn’t dreamed it;

in its window? a.xist with

^at day, almost as he used in thp^J^f^ specially unwell
old disease was coming on Hp an attack of his

^^'i^Ptionally ateent-mindPd^"' times he used

people, if he did not look 2thp’ mixed up thinr^

^ere was another special strained atten-

shnn°°a '"'hether he really had^bppn "’hy he wanted to

&din things L £ shoo then before that

E^^tooked at, he had even EtSffi thing he

remembered that in price of it at sixty

wac ?fl^^tion. If then, that shon^*^^^ ^hsent-mindedness
was m the window, he mSt haL E"'^ ^^t thing really

that thing. So it must Ee tZJ W ^huply to look at
nave interested him so much that it

2Xo

i

attracted his attention, even at the time when he was in such
distress and confusion, just after he had come out of the railway
station. He walked almost in anguish, looking to the right and
his heart beat with uneasy impatience. But here was the shop,
he had found it at last! He had been five hundred paces from
it when he had felt impelled to turn back. And there was the
article worth sixty kopecks. "It would be certainly sixty
kopecks, it’s not worth more,” he repeated now and laughed.
But his laughter was hysterical; he felt very wretched. He
remembered clearly now that just when he had been standmg
here before this window he had suddenly turned round, as he
had done that morning when he caught Rogozhin’s eyes fixed
upon liim. Making certain that he was not mistaken (though
he had felt quite sure of it before), he left the shop and walked
quickly away from it. He must certainly think it all over. It
was clear now that it had not been his fancy at the station either,
that something real must have happened to him, and that it
must be connected with all his former uneasiness. But he was
overcome again by a sort of insuperable iimer loathing : he did
not want to think an3dhing out, and he did not; he fell to musing
on something quite different.

He remembered among other things that he always had one
minute just before the epileptic fit (if it came on while he was
awake), when suddenly in the midst of sadness, spiritual dark-
ness and oppression, there seemed at moments a flash of light
in his brain, and with extraordinary impetus aU his vital forces
suddenly began working at their highest tension. The sense of
life, the consciousness of self, were multiplied ten times at these
moments which passed like a flash of lightning. His mind and
his heart were flooded with extraordinary light; all his uneasi-
ness, all his doubts, all his anxieties were relieved at once; they
were all merged in a lofty calm, full of serene, harmonious joy
and hope. But these moments, these flashes, were only the pre-
lude of that final second (it was never more than a second) with
which the fit began. That second was, of course, unendurable.
Thinking of that moment later, when he was all right again, he
often said to himself that all these gleams and flashes of the
highest sensation of life and self-consciousness, and therefore also
of the highest form of existence, were nothing but disease, the
interruption of the normal condition; and if so, it was not at all
the highest form of being, but on the contrary must be reckoned
the lowest. And yet he came at last to an extremely paradoxical
conclusion. "What if it is disease?” he decided at l^t. "What

219

s it matter tliat U U aii abnormal inlenjiiy, il the result,
1C minute of sensation, remembered and analysed afterwards
lealth, turns out to l>c the acme of Imrrnony and beauty,
, gives a feeling, unknown and undivined till then, of com-
pleteness, of proportion, or reconciliation, and of ecstatic devo-
tional merging in the highest sjoithcsis of life?” These vague
expressions seemed to him very comprehensible, though too
weak. That it really was ‘'beauty and worship", tliat it really
was the "highest syntlicsis of life" he could not doubt, and cooU
not admit the possibility of doubt. It was not as though he saw
abnormal and unreal visions of some sort at that moment, as
from hashish, opium, or wine, dcstrojing the reason and distort-
ing the soul. He was quite capable of judging of that when tlie
attack was over. These moments were onlj' an exlraordinaiy
quickening of self-consciou.sncss — if the condition Mms to he
expressed in one word — and at the same time of Uic direct sensa-
tion of c.xislcncc in llie most intense degree. Since at tliat
second, that is at the vcr\' last conscious moment before the fit.
he had time to say to himself clearly and consciously: “Yes, for
this moment one might give one’s whole lifel" Tiicn without
doubt that moment was really worth the whole of life. He did
not insist on the dialectical part of his argument, however. SlupC'
faction, spiritual darkness, idiocy stood before him conspicu-
ously as the consequence of tlicsc "higher moments"; seriously,
of course, he could not have disputed it. There was rmdoubtcdly
a mistake in his conclusion — that is, in his estimate of tliat
minute, but the reality of tlie sensation somewhat pcrple.xcil
him. What was he to make of Uiat reality? For tlie very' thing
had happened; he actually had said to himself at that
second, that, for the infinite happiness he had felt in it, that
second really might well be worth the whole of life. "At ^at
moment," as he told Rogozhin one day in Moscow at the time
when they used to meet Uicrc, "at that moment I seem somehow
to understand tlie extraordinary' saying that ihers shall be r.o
more iime. Probably," he added, smiling, "Uiis is tlie very
second which was not long enough for the water to be spilt out
of Mahomet’s pitcher, though the epileptic prophet had time to
gaze at all tlie habitations of Allah."

Yes, he had often met Rogozhin in Moscow, and they had not
talked only' of this. "Rogozhin said just now tliat I had been
a brother to him then; he said that for the first time to-day,”
Myshkin thought to himself.

He thought this, sitting on a seat under a tree in the Summer

220

V

* 1 *

Garden. It was about seven o’clock. The Garden was empt}’;
a shadow passed over !hc selUng sun for an instant. It \ra5
sultry and there was a feeling in the air like a foreboding of a
thunderstorm in the distance. His present contemplative mood
had a certain charm for him. His mind and memory seemed to
fasten upon_ every e.\'temal object about him, and he found
pleasure in it. He was yearning all the while to forget some-
tliing in the present, sometlring grave; but at the first glance
about him he \vas aware again at once of his gloomy thought,
the thought he was so longing to get away from. He recalled
that lie liad talked at dinner to the waiter at tlie restaurant of
a very .strange murder wliich had c.xcitcd mudi talk and sensa-
tion, But he had no sooner recollected it than somcUiing strange
happened to him again.

An e.xtraordinaiy, overwhelming desire, almost a temptation,
suddenly paralysed his will. He got up from tJic seat, walked
straight from tlie Garden towards the Petersburg Side, Not
long ago he had asked a passer-by on the bank of the Neva to
point out to him across the river the Petersburg Side. It was
pointed out to him, but he had not gone there tlicn. And in
any case it would have been useless to go lliat day, he knew it.
He had long had the address; he could easily find the house of
Lebedyev's relation; but ho knew almost for certain that he
would not find her at home. ‘‘She certainly is gone to Paviovsk,
or Kolya would have left word at ‘The Scales’, as he had
agreed.” So if ho went there now, it was certainly not with tlie
idea of seeing her. A gloomy, tormenting curiosity of another
sort allured him now. A sudden new idea had come into his
mind.

But it was enough for him tliat he had set off and that he
knew where he was going; though a minute later he was walking
along again almost unconscious of his surroundings. Further
consideration of his "sudden idea” became all at once intensely
distasteful to him, almost impossible. He stared with, painfully
strained attention at every object that met his eye : he gazed at
the sky, at the Neva. He spoke to a little boy he met. Perhaps
his epileptic condition was growing more and more acute. The
storm was certainly gathering, though slowly. It was beginning
to thunder far away. The air had become very sultry. . . .

For some reason he was continually haunted now, as one is
sometimes haunted by an annoying and stupidly persistent tunc,
by the image of Lebedyev’s nephew, whom he had seen that
morning. Strange to say, he kept seeing liim as tire murderer

221 H

of whom Lebed 3 'ev had spoken that morning, while introducing
his nephew to Myshkin. Yes, he had read quite a little while ago
about that murder; he had read and heard much since he had
been in Russia of such cases, and always followed tliem. And
that evening he had been extremely interested in his talk with
the waiter about that same murder — the murder of the
Zhemarins. The waiter agreed with him, he remembered that.
He_ remembered the w'aiter too. He was an intelligent fellow,
staid and careful; though “God only know's what he is like
really; it s liard to make new people out in a new country”.
Yet he was_ beginning to have a passionate faith in the Russian
^ul. Oh, in those six months he had passed through a great
dem a great deal that had been quite new to him, unguessed,
unknown and expected 1 But the soul of another is a dark place
and tlie Russian soul is a dark place — for many it is a dark
place. He had long been friends with Rogozhin, for instance,
toey liad been intimate, they had been like brothers; but did
- what chaos one found here sometimes

in all this! What a muddle, what hideousness 1 And what a
repulsive and self-satisfied pimple that nephew of Lebedyev’s
WhatamI saying, though?” (Myshkin went on dream-
mg.) Did he kill those creatures, those six people? I seem tc
be miMng it up. . . How strange it is! 1 am rather giddy.

what a sweet face Lebedyev’s
eldest daughter had—the one standing up with the baby ! mat

childish expression! What an
thnf far laugh! Strange that he had nearly forgotten

^t face and now he could think of nothing else. Lebedyev,
who stamped lus feet at them, probably adored them all. But

adored 'ta I

could he venture to cnucise them so positively, he

Had hp PY ^ riddle to him that day.

libedvpv S Had he known a

n ^ Lebedyev and Du Barry—heavensl

tefuJ, ™ 1 last, it would not

222

such a supposition with cynical openness I” he cried, and a
flush of shame instantiy overspread his face. He was astounded;
he stood still, as tliou^h struck dumb in tlie road. He remem-
ber^ all at once tlic Pavlovsk station that afternoon and the
station at which he had arrived tliat morning, and Rogozhin’s
question asked to Ins face about tlie eyes; and Rogozhin's cross,
which he was wearing now; and the blessing of his mother, to
whom Rogozhin had taken him himself; and tliat last convul-
sive embrace, that last renunciation of Rogozhin's on the stairs
-^d after all tliat, to catcli himself incessantly looking about
him for something, and that shop and that object. . . . What
baseness ! And, after all tliat, he was going now with a "special
purpose”, witli a "spcdal sudden ideal” His whole soul was
ovenvliehned ivith despair and suffering. Myshkin wanted to
turn back at once and go home to the hotel. He even turned
and walked that way, but a minute later he stood still, reflected,
and went back again to where he had been going.

Yes, he was already on the Petersburg Side; he was near the
house. It was not witli that same purpose he iras going there
now; it was not witli that special idea! And how could it be?
Yes, his illness was coming back, there was no doubt of that;
perhaps he would even have the fit that day. All this darkness
was owing to that; "the idea," too, was owing to that! Now
the darkness was dispelled, the demon had been driven away,
doubt did not exist, there was joy in his heart! And — it was
so long since he had seen her, he wanted to see her, and . . .
Yes, he would have liked to meet Rogozhin now; he would have
taken him by the hand and they would have gone together. His
heart was pure; he was not Rogozliin’s rivSl The next day
he would go himself and tell Rogozhin that he had seen her.
Wliy, he had flown here, as Rogozhin said, that afternoon
simply to see her! Perhaps he would find her! It \vas not
certain after all that she Avas at Pavlovsk.

Yes, all this must be made clear now, that all might see clearly
into each other’s hearts, that there might be no more such
gloomy and passionate renunciations as Rogozhin’s that day;
and all this must be done in freedom and . . . light. Surely
Rogozhin too could walls in the light. He said he ^d not love
her like that; that he had no compassion for her, no "sort of
pity”. It is true he had added afterwards that "your pity per-
haps is stronger than my love” ; but he had been unjust to him-
self. Hm! . . . Rogozliin reading — ^was not tliat "pity" ? The
beginning of "pity"? Did not the very presence of that book

223

prove tliat he was fully conscious of his attitude to her? And
dll he had told liim tliat morning? Yes, that was deeper than
mere passion. And does her face inspire no more tlran passion?
Can that face indeed inspire passion now? It excites grief, it
clutches the whole soul, it . . . and a poignant, agonising
memory suddenly passed tlirough M3'shkin's heart.

Yes, agonising. He remembered how he had suffered not long
ago when first he had noticed in her symptoms of insanit}'. Then
he had been almost in despair. And how could he have left her
when she ran awa}' from liim to Rogozhin? He ought to have
nm after her liimself without %vaiting for news of her. But . . .
was it possible Rogozliin had not \'ct noticed insanity in her?
Hm 1 Rogozhin sees other causes for evcrj'thing, passions ! And
what insane jealousy! WTiat did he mean by his supposition
that morning? (Myshkin suddenly’ hushed and tliere was a sort
of shudder at his heart.)

But what use was it to think of that? Tlierc was insanity
on both sides. And for him, Mj'shkin, to love that woman with
passion was almost unthinkable, would have been almost cruelty,
inhumanity. Yes, yesi No, Rogozhin was unfair to himself: he
^ heart which could suffer and be compassionate.
When he knew all the trutli, when he realised what a piteous
cr^tare that broken, insime woman was, wouldn’t he forgive, her
V ^ ^lis agonies? Wouldn’t he become her servant,

her brother, her friend, her Providence? Compassion would
teach even Rogozhin and awaken his mind. Compassion was
the chief and perhaps only law of all human existence. Ah, bow
unpardonably and dishonourably he had wronged Rogozhin!
No, it was not that "tlie Russian soul was a dark place”, but
own OTul there was darkness, since he could imagine
such horrors. Because of a few rvarm words from the heart in
Moscow Rogozhm had called him his brother; w’hile he . . . But
^at was sictoe^ and delirium. That would all come right! . . ,

morning that he was
^ suffering terribly! He
that^ liT^I> picture”; it was not

SSefv Rogozhin was not

merely a passionate soul; he was a fighter, anyway: he wanted

by f»ce 10 eM tack Ita lost f.i.h, hI M S of

one! Hon'c'tTT, m something ! Tobelieveinsome-

one! Ho%y strange that picture of Holbein’s was, though! . . .

i^rNo' that’hS k. it

^ It. No. i6. the house of Madame Filisov”. It was herel

224

Myshkin rang and asked for Nastasya Filippovna.

The mistress of the house herself answered him that Nastas3'-a
Filippovna had gone to Pavlovsk that morning to stay with
Darya Alexeyevna, "and it may be that sire will stay there seme
days”. Madame Filisov was a little, keen-eyed, sharp-faced
w'oman about forty, with a sly and watchful expression. She
asked liis name, and there was an apparently intentional air of
m5^tery in the question. Myshkin was at first unwilling to
answer, but immediately turned back and asked her emphatic-
ally to give his name to Nastasya Filippovna. Madame Filisov
received this emphatic request with great attention and an
extraordinary air of secrecy, by which she evidently meant to
suggest: "Set your mind at rest; I understand. Myshkin’s name
obviously made a very great impression on her. He looked
absent-mindedly at her, turned, and went back to his hotel. But
he looked quite different now. An extraordinary change had
come over turn again and apparently in one instant. He walked
along once more pale, weak, suffering, agitated; his knees
trembled and a va^e bewildered smile hovered about his blue
lips. His "sudden idea” was at once confirmed and justified,
and he believed in his demon again.

But w'as it confirmed? But was it justified? Why that shiver
again, that cold sweat, that darkness and chill in his soul? Was
if because he had once more seen those eyes? But he had gone
out of the Summer Garden on purpose to see them I That was
what his "sudden idea" amounted to. He had intensely desired
to see "those eyes” again, so as to make quite certain that he
would meet them there, at that house. He had desired it
passionately, and why was he so crushed and overwhelmed now
by the fact that he had actually just seen them? As though he
had not expected it ! Yes, those were the same eyes (and there
could be no doubt now that they were the same eyes) which had
gleamed at him in the morning, in the crowd when he got out of
the train from Moscow; they were the same (absolutely the same)
which he had caught looking at him from behind that afternoon
just as he was sitting down at Rogozhin's. Rogozhin had denied
it at the time; he had asked with a wry and frozen smile "whose
eyes were they? ” And not many hours ago, when Myshkin was
getting into the Pavlovsk train to go down to see Aglaia, and
suddenly caught sight of those eyes again for the third time that
day, he had an intense desire to go to Rogozhin and to tell him
whose eyes they were. But he had run out of the station and
had been hardly conscious of an3rthing, till the moment when

225

be found himself standing at the cutler’s shop and thinking an
object with a stag-hom handle would cost sixty kopecks. A
strange and dreadful demon had got hold of him for good and
would not let him go again. That demon had whispered to him
in the Sunmier Garden, as he sat lost in thought under a lime-
tree, that if Rogozhin had felt obliged to follow him that day
and to dog his footsteps, he would certainly, on finding Myshkin
had not gone to Pavlovsk (which was of course a terrible fact
for Rogozhin) have gone there to Filisov’s house and would
certainly have watched there for him, JI\’shkin, who had given
him his word of honour only that morning that he would not
see her and that he had not come to Petersburg for that. And
here was Slyshkin hurrying feverishly to that house ! And what
if he really did meet Rogozhin there? He had only seen an
unhappy man whose state of mind was gloomy, but very easy
to ^derstand. That unhappy man did not even conceal him-
self now. Yes, that morning Rogozhin had for some reason
denied it and told a lie, but at the station he stood almost un-
concerned. Indeed, it w^ rather he, M3'shkin, had concealed
mmself, and not Rogozhin. And now at the house he stood on
the other side of the street fifty paces away on the opposite
pavement, waitmg with his arms folded. There too he had
^en quite co^picuous and seemed to rvish to be conspicuous
m^purpos^^^He stood like an accuser and a judge and not

gone up to him now? Why
thnnah +tip: ^ ^ though noticing nothing,

Soked eyis had met! they had

wanted to take

to lo He had meant

had refu^ To ! if been to see her. He

suddpnto fl ^ ^ben, half-way there, joy had

RoS&.2hS^ sometoing in

his words whole image of the man that day, in all

justify Mj'shkin’s could

to anaK":p jo., -r ^ uiar can De seen, but is ditlicait
'ufficient eTonTirlc ?^™®lbing impossible to justify on

^d imnoShfuf^'-r^i'^®^ “ ®Pbe of aU that difficulty

^ »bfct invota&Iy

•n^ess, the degradmgness” of this conviction, of ‘W
226

Vi ^ ') Ss-V

..se toeijoaing';, tw'Smf

-to “Sir he 5Sto«' ";“'i"Se?St“ah to to pt of n.y

life! Oh, ^hat a end ^^j^/esisW desite seized

““Ho^^ho tod «*®'L*S>m--toltoditot|isftot

ionidoB ^‘^g°iS'diy he tod toh8“ ” ^ *h ^toj;
fain beUetoiS “ Sltill at the gate- \t a.at momml.

seen on Rogozhin knives as that point, petnfied

■with amazenaent, n conne^on unbearable shocK

Aecutler’sshop. popped short. the spot ]nst

toS Wd V ^ S ^'“"’a'^V'^toled^toomay,
f^’^hS and a ctoato h^ ,hoIt

and abruptly mo ^ particularly dark

gatev^ay, wgf ^“Sud'had *at Mishkin

not see liini distinctly and could not have told for certain who
he was. Besides, numbers of people might be passing here; it
was a hotel and people were continually running in and out.
But he suddenly felt a complete and overwhelming conviction
that he recognised the man and that it was certainly Rogozhin.
A moment after, Myshkin rushed after him up the stairs. His
heart sank. “Everytliing will be decided now,” he repeated to
himself with strange conviction.

The steircase up which Myshkin ran from the gateway led to
the corridors of the first and second floors, on which were the
rooms of the hotel. As in all old houses, the staircase was of
stone, dark and narrow, and it turned round a thick stone
column. On the first half-landing there was a hollow' like a niche
m the column, not more tlian half a yard wide and nine inches
deep. Yet there was room for a man to stand there. Dark as it
w^, M 3 shkin, on^ reaching the half-landing, at once discovered
that a man was hiding in the niche. Myshkin suddenly wanted
to pass by without looking to the right. He had taken one step
alreaay, but he could not resist turning round.

.T^ose two eyK, the same two eyes, met his own. The man
hidden m the niche had already moved one step from it. For
one second th^ stood facing one another and almost touching,
buddenly Slyshkin seized him by the shoulders and turned him
back towards the staircase, nearer to the light; he wanted to see
his face more clearly.

Rogozhin’s eyes flashed and a smile of fui^' contorted his face.

something gleamed in it; My^in
'*^'=king it. He only remembered that he
"I’arfyon, I don't beUeve itl” Then
^ddenly sometbng seemed Jom asunder before him; his soul
^flooded with intense inner light. The moment lasted per-
thp^Ptrin ^ and consciously remembered

S scream which broke

'ivWch he could not have checked by

and compleStoi^oTS"'" extinguished

is well li3.d had for a long time. It

moment thp fam • come on quite suddenli'. At the

whole body Ld fte^fSSres^^oSf/ ^

ierks and ^ ^“-^res of the face work with convulsive

untVmXg

ervthinp . ureate from the sufferer. In that scream

§ seems obliterated and it is impossible, or very

228

aifficult. for

Ifleasthave ^.itfr ,^%nc^nny . It

an epileptic certain horror

honor, in which th ^fclmg moment, had

must be snppo^d ^ \^ble sensations of & the

together with ozhin and ^hen before he

suddenly parg“ have that hlyshhm h^

knife with winch nc . 2^ tit, ^c^ng aownstairs,

S » Pf C ‘‘"'i ?“%e“S stp. R->ef S

SlfesSSia'SCjE

■3fisr5=#-£i=%

ot four aud „*. jvfadame Ep^^ ,/ -where be bad

;?lna hto at *' “Sn ted gate »"■ faking tea and

in the hotel that Mys™ ^ kOT someone

lo ?to testan^t -d .'"SVnlng to o«o»» . nt to

'srs a ArsStS^rs^sAsgh te iS“oS

i* 'AAlSSad'hadS

and extraordinaiy warmth. For his sake he hastened his re-
moval, and three days later they were all at Pavlovsk.

CHAPTER VI

TEBEDYEV’S villa was not a large one, hut was comfortable
•I— /and even pretty. The part of it which was to let had been
newly decorated. On the rather spacious veranda by which the
house was entered from the street, orange-trees, lemons and
jasmmes had been placed in large green wooden tubs, which in
Lebedyev s opinion gave the place a most seductive appearance.
He had bought some of those trees with the villa and was so
enchanted by the effect they produced in the veranda that he
r^olved to take advantage of an opportunity to buy some more
of the same kind at an auction. When all the shrubs had been
brought to the villa and put in their places, Lebedyev had
several fames that day run down the steps of the veranda to
admire the effect from the street, and every time he mentally in-
® proposed to ask from his future tenant,

My^m, worn out, depressed, and physically shattered, was
delighted widr the viUa. But on the day of arriving at Pavlovsk

the fit-Myshkin looked almost weU
again, though inwardly he still felt ill-effects. He was glad to

wac:^S°nf® was about him during those three days; he
T ^ liardly left his side; glad to see the

elad to see T phZi somewhere); he was

GeiSi even welcomed with pleasure

SrSf he left PetLburg.

werSsTS they amved at Pavlovsk a good many guesl
was Ganva m ® about him. The first to arrive

^ much^'d^n^^^“'“i.^^-‘“y recognised, he had changed
came Varva thinner in those six months. Then

General ^olein had a villa at Pavlovsk.

apparently moved Lebedyev’s and had

oKart of^P hn,^^ T: L^hedyev tried to keep him in his
He treafed tiSgeneral wlf to sle Myshkin,

each other a lomr HtLp to have known

days that thev wfrp frp’n noticed during those three

together- that^ thpv engaged in long conversations

elmed suSSt. argued, even about

fT S S;h7Ji Lebedyev great satis-

Une might have thought that the general wal necessary

230

not let anyone tlicm all a'vay* c n to the

»s“t spSi ot «ys.*.n.

Um Mt to Sn'l f ''°“hS‘'™ill »« '“’’S $S?

'''rtchioSS'’ S

“But why so- P „„i:ons and watchimn ^gprcss me more

:::::

Sin's “'’“““'^‘‘trtiie fnct that,

:*‘4"S“=rrt'S"iE~

rHsS-1-I.Ss,5'i.irr.S

'IT tiS «n iSiyn to^^dS? S rclnunl

°' “"" tlL

his hands. 231

MysKkin scanned him intenfly from head to foot.

And have you brought tiie little cupboard here tliat was
hanging at the head of your bed?"

"No, I haven’t.”

"Have you left it there?"

It was impossible to bring it, I should have to wrench it
from the wall. . . . It’s fixed firmly, firml}'.”

‘But perhaps there’s another one like it here?”

^ better one! It was there when I bought the

A-ahl Who was it you wouldn't admit to see me an hour
ago?”

"It . . it was the general. It’s true I didn’t let him in, and

e ought not to come. I have a great respect for that man,
is a great man. Don’t you believe me?
e , you will see; but yet . . . it’s better, illustrious prince,
lor you not to receive hirn."

But why so, allow me to ask? And why are you standing
D nntnp now T i.__ j. _ x

, j, rirz'’ — A. it, Lebedyev reolied

""i^ feeling. "And
general be too hospitable for you?”

Too hospitable?”

me-'S’t&S!^ “tending to hve with

ine' to be a rpllf ^ x always in extremes, he is claim-

refatiorShin I- We’ve been into the question of

connected ^ire^dy; it appears that we are

on the mother'*: ^ second cousin of his too,

?ou are^?cmf*:;n ti, ® explained it to me only yesterday. If
trious nrince Thai’ ^ relations too, illus-

ensim un tn tho iu r ^ '“ce he was an

do\^to dinner w!th "ever sat

He went so far at people at his table,

so they had dinner an/i never got up from the table,

fourSS5r?;^r tVw'^PP"" f°" fifteen finnrs out of

would get UD Sd an aSf 1° ^te table-cloths. One

there wLld be af lanv at ®°™®' ^n hoHdays

annivcrsarv of ftr^fotndaStf'p thousandth
'’’•ed peonie Tt’c a np-o- “oit of Russia he counted seven hun
P* • passion with him; such assertions are a very

232

^ 1 */ •“ '

roiii'Cc.Cion';. ^’’ J Q luin'Uc'^ jicoplc .■ , jcmnrU

„,„,„„,d0. ' “ ance.ay. ' »> >11 W »

"Set. '■' V^X-

s«;;tcu>..i »»{ “ ^''f, ''^

you l:oo»- ■!' “ iSv\;ilU yo» j" '„ „„.l SCO ho. .»>«''

h:\ve an - at ^ t*

**\Vhv ^ ^

•S^.,:'„on.!..c— ‘ , „oV. 0.0 ,...>«

«" ’'“" oort of ®pW»S4

„{\oincll»ng^^Tcn wc ^'|lf^^.;;tcrious contortion .
.•vJhofC forbndc "^''-.^iSi'USttcrcd:

thorousWy c impatience,

he . said
up

■■O'' '"“'■more S ’■'iP Gcncrol

. »'\nnt\\Gr»

At that moment Kolya entered the veranda from the street
and ^nounced that visitors— Madame Epanchin and her three
daughters— were just coming to call

I Gavril Ardalionovitch, or

not. ShaU I admit the general or not?” said Lebedyev, skip-
ping up, impressed by the news. ^

Toh'S , Let anyone come who likes. I assure you.

^^ea about mv attitude
tim? making a mistake aU the

time. I have not the slightest reason for hiding and concealing
myself from anyone,” laughed Myshkin. ® eonceaung

^tiedyev felt it his duty to laugh too. In
p e of his ^eat agitation, he also seemed extremely pleased.

few Se^T.H He had come only a

so th?K of the Epanchins to announce their arriral,

Sc? tlS Vnf V both sides at

had not written for siv mn assured her that a man who

in suc^ a hu??ro,v perhaps be far from being

do in PeteisWg anart from fhol ^ ^ Sreat deal to

he was about? Madame Fna^v.™' ^bey know what

remarks and^vas re^ t?P“‘^bmFas positively ^ngiy at these
appearance next day at late^^hn? Mysh^ would make his
latel The next dS^ Se had b^en f be rather

ing: they expected him fo jb^®° expectmg him all the mom-
when it got quite dark T the evening, and

everj'thing and quarrelled witn*^ Prokofyevna was cross with
allusion to Myshkin as the ayeiyone, making of course no
was spokenTS on Z S'°d W one word

Aglaia let drop the remark tha^^, either. When at dinner
pnnce had not come-to wS her'^rh''^ becai^ the
that It v'as not his fault Tire ^ “or father immediately replied
the table in wkTh. At 1^ got up\nd left

gave them a full description of alfAf'" ^olya arrived and
“^he knew them. Lizaveta ® adventures so far

zaveta Prokofyevna was triumphant, but

234

■ - (or.Eoodscoiaine.

S»« E®

fluster, “afl'i how the land h

'■’’’''^Hc^s on lh> ^fou'^tincling on ceremony
SS 3y in ..o. » .no. .0. ..e Inn nc.

“'Rul 'w'o ninatn t well indeed,

SS"nioU\ono^l“:^^^

S S then- ,4 be ;^th .the

ThoS'wSAElaia^^

iSlSi

"Ists rioS« £r’5?n?Xsr«s;S

n-onO» ’t&.S nad-spoUon _.o«« °" S„

"S 3”P 3' S Thc> n |»£s;s;

, ii;* Volyo™ASn, » say nott«»|^ had, a

-Av of visitors vritn y , persons tor surprise

atSoJj r'HS’° econd Perfect heal^^

bed. She actually

delight of Kolya, who of course might perfectly well have
explained before she set out that no one was dying and that it
was not a case of a death-bed. But he had not explained it,
slyly foreseemg the comic wrath of Madame Epancliin when, as
certainly be angry at finding Myshkin,
for whorn had real affection, in good health. Kolya was so
tactl^, indeed, as to speak of his surmise aloud, so as to put
toe Wishing toucto to tozaveta Prokofyevna’s irritation. He

in Sometimes very maliciously,

m spite^ of their affection for one another.

f^on’t'be in a hurry! Don’t
spoil your tnumph, answered Lidaveta Prokofyevna, sitting

do\vn in the arm-chair that Myshkin set for her. ^ ^

toe General Ivolgin flew to put chairs for

Sr Ivolgin gave Aglaia a chair. Lebedyev

bv toe ven 7 °^ Pnnee S. too, expressing profound respectfutoess

vL?!. S 1 Varya greeted the

young latoes as usual m an ecstatic whisper.

bed expected to find you almost in

to toll alfe^Ef-f^rSf and Tam not going

sight of vonr Vinnn ^ Iclt tocadfully vexed just now at the
Sre Y had^iS^ ^ f only for a minute,

Sblv when ^ot and speak more

you And vet rim! ^ it’s theiame wfh

recovery of^v own^cn ®|lon^d be less pleased perhaps at the
believe me toe shqme ^ yours; and if you don’t

boHiS to And ilds spiteful

he is a ■pruiesd ^ vonrc-^°^^ e.\'pense. I believe

shall deny mvselfihe ^ ono fine morning I

further acquatotaice^” ^npying toe honour of his

I had assured you^t^attheiri I'-otya. "However much
would not have^been willing L ^niost well again, you

more interesting to imap!n5n- nie, because it was much

"Have yoYime K death-bed.’’

asked Myshkin. long? Lizaveta Prokofyevna

;;The whole summer and perhaps longer ’’

.You are alone, aren’t y5u? Not Sod 7 -

taunt.°' ™^od,’' Myshkin smiled at toe ‘simplicity of toe

of this villa. Wlw^havm^t^^n liappen. I was thinking

>'ny naven t you come to us? We have a whole

236

(ving cmpt}'. But do as you like. Have you hired it from him?
That person?” she added in an undertone, nodding atLcbedyev.
"Why docs he wriggle about like that?”

At that moment Vera came out of tlie house on to the
veranda, as usual with the baby in her arras. Lebedyev,
wlio was wriggling around the chairs at a complete loss what to
do with himself and desperately anxious not to go, immediately
flew at Vera. He gesticulated at her and chased her off the
veranda and, forgetting himself, even stamped witli his feet.

"He is mad?” observed Madame Epanchin suddenly.

"No. he is . .

"Drunk, perhaps? Your party is not attractive,” she
snapped, after glancing at the other guests also. "But what
a nice girl, though 1 Who is she?”

"That’s Vera Lukyanovna, the daughter of Lebedyev here.”

"Ah! , . . She is very sweet. I Siould like to make her
acquaintance.”

But Lebedyev, hearing Madame Epanchin 's words of
approval, was alrcadj’^ (Sagging his daughter forward to
present her.

motherless children I” he wailed as he came up. "And
this baby in her arms is motherless, her sister, my daughter
Lubov — bom in most lawful wedlock from my departed wife
Elena, who died six weeks ago in childbirth, by the wll of
God. , . . Yes . . . she takes her mother’s place to the
baby, though she is a sister and no more ... no more, no
more. ...”

"And you, sir, arc no more than a fool, if you’ll excuse mel
That's enough, you know it yourself, I suppose,” Lizaveta
Prokofyevna rapped out in extreme indignafc'on.

"Perfectly true," Lebedyev assented, with a low and respect-
ful bow.

"Listen, IMr. Lebedyev, is it true what they say, that you
interpret die Apocalypse?” asked Aglaia.

"Perfectly true ... for fifteen years."

"I’ve heard about you. I think tliere was something in the
newspapers about you?”

"No, that ivas about another interpreter, another one; but
• he is dead. I’ve succeeded him,” said Lebedyev, beside him-
self with delight.

"Be so good as to interpret it to me some day soon, as we are
neighbours. I don't understand anything in the Apocal 5 q)se."

"I must warn you, Aglaia Ivanovna, that all this is mere

237

chMlatanibm on his part, believe jnc," General Ivolein nul in
quickly. He was silling beside Aglaia, and tingling all over
with eagerness to enter into conversation. "Of course there
arc certain privileges on a holiday." he went on. "and certain
pleasures, and to take up such an extraordinary ir.tnis for the
intciprctalion of the Apocalj'p.^e is a diversion like anv other,
aacl even a remarkably clever diversion, bull . . . I think you
are looking at me with surprise? General Ivolgin. I have the
honour to introduce myscll, I used to carr\’ you in mv arms.
Aglau Ivanovna." ' '

Vc'U' glad to meet you. I know Varv.ani Ardalionovaa
ana iMna Alexandrovna," Aglaia muttered, making dtoperate
cflofe not to mirst out laughing.

Lir-aveta Prokofyevna llushtd. Tlic irritation that had been
accumulating for a long time in her heart suddenly craved for an
out ct. bhe could not endure General Ivolgin, with whom she
had ^n acouainted, but very long ago.

UMial. You have never carried her in

at Tver," Agiaja

4i t"" ",*■ "''Vi Jiver then. I was sis

> ears old then, I remember. He made me a bow and arrow and

wiled'^o ^ Pigeon. Do you remember

^\c kiiica a pigeon together?

wooden Cardboard, and a

wooden sword, I remember, too!" cned Adelaida.

over

wav with vnnntT began a conversation in that

ance But^this Ime ? wanted to make their acquaint-

diough aL k haononfd n the truth.

declLd tha STad’shot a ^°"SOttcn it So wlicri Aglaia
memort^ of Id *°Sethcr, it revived his

elderly people ohen do '’"tail himself, as

It is hard to lay wLt tW ™ r ^^^ething in the remote past,
so strong an effect on the that reminiscence to produce

little drunk^m "

"I remerntCTr t ^ once greatly moved,
remember, I -.>inembcr it all I" he cried. "I

238

was a

captain then. You were such a pretty little mite. . . . Nina
Alexandrovna. . . . Ganya ... I used to be ... a guest in
your house, Ivan Fyodorovitch . . ”

"And see what you’ve come to nowl” put in Madame
Epanchin. "So you haven't drunk away ail your better feeling,
it affects you so much? But you've worried your wife to death !
Instead of looking after your children, you sit in a debtors'
prison. Go away, my friend; stand in some comer behind the
door and have a crj'. Remember your innocence in the past,
and ma5'be God will forgive you. Go along, go along, I mean
it. Nothing helps a man to reform like thinking of the past
with regret.”

But to rep>eat that she was speaking seriously was unneces-
sary. General Ivolgin, like all drunkards, was very emotional,
and, like all drankards who have sunk very low, he was much
upset by memories of the happy past. He got up and walked
humbly to the door, so tliat Lizaveta Prokofyevna was at once
sorry for him.

"Ardalion Alexandrovitch, my dear man!" she called after
him. "Stop a minute; we are all sinneis. When you feel your
conscience more at ease, come and see me; we'/I sit and chat
over the past. I dare say I am fifty times as great a sinner
myself. But now, good-bye; go along, it's no use your staying
here," she added suddenly, afraid he was coming back.

"You’d better not go after lum for a while," said M}^hkin,
checking Kolya, who was about to run after his father, or he will
be vexed directly and all this minute will be spoiled for him.”

"That's true; don’t disturb him; go in half an hour,”
Lizaveta Prokofyevna decided.

"See what comes of speaking the truth for once in his life; it
reduced liim to tears,” Lebedyev venhired to comment.

"You are another pretty one, my man, if what I've heard is
true," said Lizaveta Prokofyevna, suppressing him at once.

The mutual relations of the guests about Myshkin gradually
became evident. Myshkin was, of course, able to appreciate
and did appreciate to the full the sympathy shown to him by
Madame Epanchin and her daughters, and he told them with
truth that before they came he had intended to have paid them
a visit that day in spite of his invalid state and the late hour.
Lizaveta Prokofyevna, looking at his visitors, observed that it
\vas still possible to cany out his intention. Ptitsyn, who was a
very polite and tactful person, promptly retreated to Lebedyev's
quarters, and was very anxious to get Lebedyev away with* him.

239

“n,r,v”;. .i I ; “ <m<l rcr.,amed, ™,l ,!««,’

(janya l,mJ rtlf*™- »'

"'‘'i' Ira l»d KS

!>>• il'e'*tcmincd air

^icannccl iiim fmm . r "“'cn alariamt; Jipniichin twee

general conversation bVher'’lotd"'i‘i ini^nipting th?

ing no one ,n parlSuhr. "

'■}?’ ",f Myshkin.

grwtly (or the beUcr.'"’' changed and . . .

-"7*’ My.dikin.

commiscnition'^*^'^ '**’ VnryM, in a tone of gkii

had been standing by MadJine r Kolya, who

•suddenh/. ^ ‘ * l-P-inchm s chair, brought out

laugS' I said I>rince S.. and he

solemriU’. ^ ®P'nion," Adelaida declared

ah who had°snoi^n*' Epanchin, staring at
that Aglaia nushed hotly she but seeing

of course! Who is thisVor nonsense,

t\\^sted%"tL^^peop]?s^^7rd?7^7T^.'"’ favourite, has

haughty indignation. ' • " O’ 1 answered Aglaia, willi

often angry)7herc7va^ipjfre7f‘^'-’^

ness severity, somettiin^ evident serious-

giriish, so naively diseuised%i impatiently school-

tot to laugh when onHooked i 7 1, sometimes impossible

if e.\treme indignation to this was the cause

Snation to Aglaia, who could not understand
240

sas^&s&r-”:

‘•He has twisted so n A

added. q^j own °noM Quixote, y°^

“1 based it on yo tlirongh better than

s'-saj"-* b-TCis*"'?-.!

KTuJes ” LizavetaProKoiy persisted. i>v«y Adelaida
I the only one? ^ Ko y^P^ e S. and

for the ‘P°°^^ l believe if it "°ie 'poor knight was.

tf.SMhaveto««>r|“P you dW

'.'.'S'Swn'* S ^ Son {»',^“SjS S*? i>|‘?fr:

■poor knight

-the

ItUen, mat»nsI.o^-

Jtea"“^*i*'Sryon

don't "“'ll^u.ow'' =^”“n^C” (pt»>=‘‘“s;
ag2ed upon lon| g t^^at like a boy oi

'■■Well. Win you V r

secJt tlSit ^

But they only went on laughing.

kninht ^ Russian poem about a poor

conversation, "a fragment iut

remembL.” P°°" which of us first I don't

‘‘Aglaia Ivanovna I” cried Kolya.

went on.^^'SrLp^nf remember." Prince S.

that nothing could be''hptt''®^u'* ^“hject, others declared

we LSI afei for hto ■*).““* ‘f 'P"” “sW
our friends 'NTrit nnc ™‘ ^,^^San to go over the faces of all

^ I don't k^o^w^rva was

recall it all and bring^ifup a

appropriate at the tim% is quUe"SntemSngTow"^“'*"^

oaensivt”YS?vete^ProkS^^®“ “ mischievous and

'"n,c > r r^rokofye%ma snaoned out

Aglaia sSraly°bSS^S o^t'qSte un® the deepest respect,”
earnest voice. ^ unexpectc-dly, m a grave and

recovered 'fr^it^‘^at’s'^mo^°" completely

have supposed from rprfo- might, looking at her,

that the jest was going so fL^ mH positively glad

place in her at the vpt^ mi ’ revulsion of feeling took

overwhelming embarrassmp^fn^ Myshkin’s increasing and
to everyone. ' ^ become unmistakably evident

they talk

respect? Tell me at o^pp ^P^*^*^* Crazy creatures! Why

m response to her mothpr^'ti^^^l gravely and earnestly
that poem simply describes spiteful questions, "because

and what’s more a man mhr, i, capable of an ideal,

has faith in it, and ha\diiP ^ before him

This does n“ alwii^^K?‘* “ gi^^s up his life blindly to
^'^ays happen m our day. We are not told
242

. ht’s’ ideal was. but

device of which '^5, f ”

v&on ^n,tt she * « -

SSd not cere ■»“ ““chosen her md ^ “.^cfs just

pure beauty. conception of “e

striking hg^f® * ^it was fe^t by f knight’ that feetog

medieval chwa^.a^^ the & admitted that

Of course all tliat asceticism. . ^gg.!, and that such

reaches its utmost X

fn be capable of suen ^mfound imprc^V r lustance. The
feelings^leave behind ^ ^ ^ Pen ^““nulv Serious and not

pS?oi view, '“2^S,rion 2““ '

Isc^t^ vir

XfvStow AgWV 'oncl«lrf^^^^ nt his on-

diSStt tell fb«f a fool “S’yon^

plS^’-a ??^lr'Se.% not . -

iiuireni..»ie, my 8-*- - -y case, n-=’ ' .:,°t must hear ib. - .-

“3 r^od -fjs^u'got to

Always dlslihed P“3p^th it. *e added, addressing

Sin^i “ l.c^edtosaysoreethlng

“?J^;syeryn.u*^“Sf tt Sesh.
Skerii^ibSesinher^^^^

SSSSi-SfiSa-^*^”*^

the veranda, ana

in his aim-ch^. Everyone stared at her with some surbrise

^ °° ^ e^dent that what

hghted Aglaia was ]ust the affectation with which she was

Her molhei

pomt ot sending her back to her seat, but at the verv instant

Shoi^?SL5Te*° weU-known baUad, Zo more

_^tors entered the veranda from the street talking IniiHIv

Showed hS^ 'rh^- Epanchin and a 'young lian who

lolloved him. Their entrance caused a shght commotion.

CHAPTER VII

genera], was about

face and^hnfnn’mf^ ^ fine and intelligent

eves Aelaia mocking look in his big shining black

reSna th^veSi .°hii"T She went on

2id addrels^Twm *?. one but Myshkin

with some o^iect Riw' ^e^lised that she was doing it all

somewhat lesseiTthe S/kwSdne^f

he stood UD norffltvi ^ position. Seeing them,

signed to th^ not to tnt*^^ ^ g^eral from a distance,

retreating behind his amf.Si and succeeded in

the back of it, he was ^^tTr ’i ^eanmg with his arm on
venient and less "absurd ° ^

Prokofyevna for her nPT+° I^sihon than before. Lizaveta
visitors to stand still ^Pfioned twice peremptorily to the
visitor, the TOun'^an •T'* in his new

knew he must be°Yevpen,r tj General Epanchin. He

had heard a' good deJ Radomsky, of whom he

He was only^r^lfe^d 'ff nnd thought more than once.
thatYm’genJiSSwi ^ 'iness; he had heard

gayed about the vount ma^’s ^

too htd aX^etWngSt'S

But it ^nnght Mjrshkin to himself,

^mpousness with which sfae affectation and

by earnestness and a deerTronc mcitafaon w'ere replaced

ing of the poem She snotp of the spirit and mean-

P em. She spoke the lines with such noble simplicitj^

244

• , , poor and simple.
Lived JjHj frtance atislerCy

Pale ofioco^l^^i,aiihaspmt
Spare ol^f‘^‘i ' I of fear. . ^

Proud, tnioj

" rtf

/td he dropped ‘ ^lacc,

Faith 'f,'‘^V;,c ifflccd the letters

jffurleci ^ V Palestine.

On the cLcta Rosal

Lutnen creh^S .,,g gj^ncc.

Shouted he uni i ^^^onace

"»'‘ri'S«£>»'»”-;,f’’““

C7icc?:ci the a

Jn far ^'^jf ^tercU of reason.
Silent, ^‘^f’ Jo le hd.
ut his soUtuae n

R^allmg that moment later. Myshkin was long after greatlv

question to which^e coufd find
assorted ^ genuine and noble feeling be

SstenJJrf unmistakable malice and mockery? Of

that cTeSv Ld mockery he had no doubt; he undLtood
inat Clearly and had grounds for it. In the course of the rerlta-

into N^]?B ¥h?r changing the letters A.M.D.

he couid'have^nn^fln^hf misunderstood or mis-heard this
2y cie aftenvards). In

ruMess and thnn<rhu ^ joke of course, though too

Stiki?. premeditated. Eveiyonl had

w j & v.^”f SI "i'/T “8“ “»

had oronounrpH fJ.^1 1 1 recalled after^vards, Aglaia

without indeed any snecilt"^ "i&out any trace of jest or sneer,
their hidden si-nAcice on those letters to suggest

those letters \wrh cnr-i, ’ contrary, she had uttered

“is

Stand the chan^e^m^tlTe^Iett^ course, did not notice or under-

Eppchin undemtood*oth2yiiore^th^

recited, ilanv of the othpr iioT ““ ^ ^eing

prised at the boldness of tho understood and were sur-

imderlving it but thev w P®.^°™unce, and also at the motive

Myshkin w^^Sdy^to^Sfhaf

only understood, Lt was^eveJ

stood: he smiled xvith too moc£nSU°

enthusiasm!^^°^on as the'^ ^Judame Epanchin in genuine
i 3 itP ^ soon as the recitation was over. “’KTiose poem

fuIl-^criS^AdeS^”' it’s disgrace-

R-okofyevna respond °bltterly'^*^^'lt“‘^^ daughters!” Lizaveta
that poem of Pushkin’s a- rt s a disgrace! Give me

‘‘But I don’t bSp get home.”

"There have bSn kL ^ Pushkin!”

I can remember,” added about ever since

to towiTS^ tke first train

hem. Kissme^ou^dtSr^^^-.^ best. Aglaia. come
y u remted it spendidly. but il you recited it
246

am sorry ior yoii‘.

»r i.S -d au dae «.t we.e

“T am perfectly weu about you, . ^5 hand.

. and rvebeard a Mysblji-^°J^^ fssed ^acb others

ri5%i?£”Sf|f s^l

Sversation^®' V& ?“'''»''J±J

noticing not there at ah)^^ BOrpiise. so m

3,J^.,»neas>ness,_a

s? ».Se

^-SS " ”“'■ “

your position at leasf” Con ^ far as I understand

"But to visit my ’^rgiag hotly,

want to go abroS^ . - ^ yourself; besides, I

and still peSstent"uL?Snp^^^”^^^'i^°“^^ over-prominent
he watcbe^ it. and be S:?tS'"tb“^

questioning looked at him perplexed and

•'poor kSIht- I sihifr \ “derstand that the
touch upol with^ and^hat'lJf*^^-^^^ possibly

his question. ’ ^of O''oo comprehend

Pushkin to-nighh iPs too°kte^”^Kof°'^ to tovro for a copy of
tion to Lizaveta Pmknfiro niamtamed in exaspera-

times it’s^S late/’ ^ ^ y°u three thousand

Pavlovi’tch inte!vened°herp^^t*° now," Yevgeny

believe the shops are shut hv n°°’ .^'^.Podly leaving Aglaia. "I
he declared, looking at his^Lt^h ^ if's past eight,”

— g it. you can

too much interest^^in^fa^^ peopl^e of the best society to be
PavIo^utch. It’s morTco^-?r^f^{ "^sk Yevgeny

with red wheels.” ^ keen on a yellow char-a-banc

Adelaida.^^ talking m quotations again. Ko! 3 ^a,” obser^'ed

Yevgeny plv"Sh?Ste£Sol“ chimed in

I ve long had the pleasiir^ nf 1! phrases out of the reviews,

conversation, but^this time Nikolay Ardalionovitch’s

Nikolay ArdalionoSSainLlu°^- in quotations.

vitcn is plainly alludmg to my yellow char-a-
2.IS

banc with red wheels. JBul I have exchanged it, you are behind
the times.”

Myshkin listened to what Radomsky was sajang. He tliought
that his manners were excellent, modest and lively, and he was
particularly pleased to hear him reply with perfect equality and
friendliness to the gibes of Kolya.

"What is it?” asked Lizaveta Prokofyevna, addressing Vera,
Lebedyev’s daughter, who was standing before her with some
large, almost new and finely bound volumes in her hands.

"Pushkin,” said Vera, "our Pushkin. Father told me to offer
it to you.”

"How is this? How can it be?” cried Lizaveta Prokofyevna
in surprise.

"Not as a present, not as a present! I wouldn’t take the
libeny!” Lebedyev skipped forward from behind his daughter.
"At cost price. Tliis is our own Pushkin handed down in the
family, Annenkov’s edition, which caimot be bought nowadays
— at cost price. I offer it with veneration, wishing to sell it and
so to satisfy the honourable impatience of your excellency’s most
honourable lilefaiy feelings.”

"Well, if you’ll sell it, thank you. You won't be a loser by
it, jfou may be sure. Only don’t play the fool, please, sir. I've
heard that you are very well read, we’ll have a talk one day.
Will you bring them yourself?”

"With veneration and , . . respectfulness!” Lebedyev
grimaced, with extraordinary satisfaction, taking the books
from his daughter.

"Well, mind you don’t lose them! Take them, even without
respectfulness, but only on condition,” she added, scarming him
carefully, "that I only admit you to the door and don’t intend
to receive you to-day. Send your daughter Vera at once, if you
wll, I like her very much.”

"Why don't you tell him about those people?” said Vera,
addressing her father impatiently, "they’ll come in of them-
selves, if you don’t, they’ve begun to be noisy. Lyov Nikolaye-
vitch,” she said, addressing Myshkin, who had already taken
his hat, "there are four men come to see you, they’ve been
waiting a long time, scolding, but father won’t let them in to
you!”

"V’ho are they?” asked Myshkin.

"They’ve come on business, they say, only if you don’t Jet
them in now, they’ll be sure to stop you on the way. You’d
better see them, Lyov Nikolayevitch, and then you’ll be rid of

249

“‘-e <« Bon-
not ™Sfitr "i?/"? ' ■^'"^ ™

£S-SS«SS!'SI

SlSSbS-'sSi-S

on®? Sr?cii;£“°T?^ o^t of tlie house

there Zre smni nf I" next room

Ivolgin, who seemed fn h General

Kolya ran indoors a^t once!

aloud? interesting!” observed Yevgeny Pavlovitch

•'m? ' ” ^ 0 “ght Myshkin.

tchev?ai“therfb®?” Ge^Si Enan’h^"^ •°"

looking at evervone wit?, asked, in amazement,

from their fac2 tharile waTS'n^'^ obsendng with surprise
about this new development. * ^

could alreadv have rniic„,i ^ entirely personal affair

■■It 'riffia vr„T„SS “ 'V^one hare,

and yourself!” said ApIpi^^ ^ ^ P“* ® once

earnestness, ‘‘and allow us I'llT J^I.Vshkin vith particular
trj^g to throw mud at von n? 'vitnesses. They are

triumphantly and I am LiilKS vr”

cried .^ ^e stopped at last, too,”

be interestog to lo^k atTw Besides, it vill

It’s a good fdea of AgfaS VS'v^f" !? ^^t dovm.

prmce?” she added, fddressinlSe S

anxious to^L.v?? bok ^ particularly

Prince S. ^ ttiese young people,” answered

“These are what are meant by nihihsts. aren't they? ”

250

“-'v «=ro‘ “t'rty

sj™;, I

“StnStuhcsi tog g-to s=qtoUo
men of '’'r;''dtoc.r^

in a direct line, but oDiq^^ or someone, for

themselves in irrationality of ' of Russia into

not a question of of tlie breaking np anything

LsUom. nor Ja tighUtot ’I go g" ^ „„

parts, no, now ttey ctoo^^ ^ by “"S' „p,s to gam

iery much, 0 °° J\"°c to do for hall a dozj^ P advise

though one might hav^^ p„„ae, I shou

one’s ends. But visitors,

you . . •” , a already gone to open smiling, ‘ y?'^^

ButMyshl^bad mr g^^Lebedyev, be sa ,

“You areslandenng , ^ gg very and Danilovs

neptow tos tort yoot fcetog^ «°'^S’Srttoan. Ent

T izaveta Prokofyevn these are only • Vipfore everyone,

iron^ r"S?tod "ouTsco “ to Ml

perhaps in ^°bc P thought of b\s h anyone ha

. He felt that be ^ouW 4‘Vin't he

of their j^oathful-

Lk ?/ checked by hi, sort of protest, had

panij out of ctinoK tv. nn,j — ... .”0 rem.iincd. Jiok-mw

Bu to be of mo L T hopinj

put General Ivolrin's bou- i • ^ , '“ c.vcrcfce of his .'lutiiont!

slkS°^ •■’Sain; he fromicd alTd in? J^i^'tuicc, rousedh
Of ih silent. «o<t nude up bis mind to be cor

^■'£5;S:5i::;[;^!-™f|;;Onc. ho.vever. ^snniai

cZoZ . t^^“«sars-'. It i m =»stificcr

S tt'c’ others as 1 fiSf w

SJelii' P’cni. ThJ^for?my.“ and if necessity

'on of J’oung man to u-f^ prominent of

iras An r" ’■? d“fsn.i(ion "the

Antip BijrHr.,.,.!... vlt>>'’en, tliouc h he t,:,.,.

'on ZpZT J'oong man "^ost prominent c

iras An r" ’■? d“fsn.i(ion "th

untidilv^lf f^oedovsky. jje^ ‘' tt'uugh he introduced him
hfc 'tressed. The sleeves nf v ^^an poorJv anc

disaEra7“"‘-°'*t buttoned un a rnirror;

tSK Ws incrcd7bra^i °.‘''f In’s hnen had

i ' fr.t hke a rope. 'I'cty black silk cearf «>.«

d 'annea;! '™s buttoned m f”’"’ ^“'0 a mirro

tSK Ws incred 7 b, .’^i °.‘''f In’s hnen ha

and h i "" ^?Pc- His hS'^ I’lack silk scarf wa

so express i?' covered'’

even-svereT^ though he had an In^rdly arfa’culatin

I’y birth T/°*^'^'Sner, though he -'peech, o

alreadv kn?^ accompanied ^ *^t. entirely Russia:

'vith young man "evonf Ippoh’t. The

signs of ulwavs'im’lnhi'^*^” Ppssibly eighteen,

yellow, his ^ f^oe. He was ih^ expression, and terrible
cheeks’ gleamed, and twn ^ ^ skeleton, pale and

I^cea^’ ,,S/°"eI’cd inces "antir. on hb

’' '^,f°P°'';cdbyga;pW' o^'eO, word, Almost every
-umpfaon. He lookf’d evidently in the last

e than another hvn ^i. tl^ough he could scarcely

W for m°oS“Sf «d In th. ..

tired and befni^^ another two or fh^I^^nsh he could scarce
visitor werfraf»,^”^’°ne else he .He was

''cre rather ceremonioS ’"‘o a chair. The oth
ns and even a h'ttle embairassf

„„ enteriBg-.

^^^^gt»,e«g‘!t"ro?&htchev^ in a

“Antip Burdovsky, v-pw introduced bun-

o* «-* '^‘ >“

^ clearly, distmcuy,

"“^‘Sl-^i^SSerrSi o, ..a pa.^ in an

gSS S

All of tbem were ^to° 5 ^ frowned an° s ^ntenance.

nad aU bitxoduced Aero el rSm^roed silent,

?roro one hand to the ^Aer^^^ speal^g;^’j“£roed to ^y.

Allot thOT seemed _^^lh_P ^ ^efi^t air,^^^^ us in_.

..• cr

had

aao an , other w B-.-'-t' , . -Kut remaui^,^ - —

trom one hand to of speai^^^ ^ seemed to ^y,

S°’ff£StLj,eJa^nn^f „„„ i„.«n.pnng

S^^Sr.a?aXae--^l.?faS:»ai ,

^"-As many reproving ® h might have

S^'^iKSaSs^n- . - -^ ^ , . to « ‘XS”®g=nePll

-And oi cour^ is ... I suppose you ^ ., pur-

prince . • • f^om^ervantl And I ; -^^ordmaiy excitement,

^ut I am ncj y°«i J^^ottering wiA extrao
dovshy mutterea.

scOTed™Sly^ broken jriih resentoenl. Be

“ “ “'i So coiw ISolr' “

X ,veie ireatecl like thaf- " Tv-wt — i-idotea voice.

^ it were my personal affair o suffered the boxer, "that is,
Burdovsky’a pTacT . of honour, if I were in

assure you, that you were here, I

be, for we are\tS ow’Ste^" I'b they may

3g?Jn. "gbts, Lebed3rev's nephew dedared

.^y oow extremely exd|ed^^i?^ ^k^’” squeaked

to the judgment of vour fa'ends? 'ar,!° Burdovsky's case
^^^But ^sod's would what tlie judg-

Mysl^ succe?ded°hi*inSellL-n^‘^^’i Bordovsky,"

pemng, ''i ten j^ou, let us eo inFn^^ staggered by such an
re^t that I only heard of you all^fc**^^

But you^e no right to ™inoto . .

ara"^ ... So there^" rf "gbt, you’ve no right!

again, looking wildly and Sjorp? gabbled suddenly

"Yon^^ mistrustful he^4f ^

You have no right." ’ mom heated he becar

" ^v,,uiig wnaiy and pnr>™i, — --'pp-j- gduoiea suaoenii

"Yon^^ ^'i mistrustful he^4f ^

““ have no right." ’ heated he became.

stopped abruptly, as it
dnmK^^^ bloodshot eyes on extremely

wac bis whole bodv hpnf^^^^’ stared athim with

eved^n^'^v?^^'^ that he toifwas time Myshkin

^c,,' onable to utter a word speechless, and gazed open-

suddenly "read this at once ^^okofyevna called to him

bu^e^y. once, this mmute, it has to do with your

?ne humedly held onf ♦ i_.

^t fte article^^A^^^ paper, and

kofvevna Bebedyev had skinned ciH ’ ^ ^ the visitors

’.x'^lth whom he "P to Lizaveta Pro-
pocket ^ be had +i,-^^^^te himself, and

Sal ?.“t it just Srf £ °“t of his side-

exdt^ a lizaveta Piokofvpvn pointing to a marked
■S r^,aS'..b„ '■•'i '■»<> Ito. to road had

exciif^ ., j ^ -^laaveta Piokofuo,^ 1 I'^mung to a marked
"S SiSl-S £?S35:’™* *■=“= bad &f, ro road had
« alood,” faltered Myshkin, very

. afterwards.”

readdy

carried away, so all anchors, aDd^^rovitch raovei

S£f “‘ «» efuae „, «'y

«Proletanaits and ”°°‘? L„„/ Jusitce! Russia, m.

day robbery! If" £ o«" ri.e fge of national

"Strange things happen enterprises, the^ g abroad

public money; wbile t

Our scion, wearing. S^^boTt six montte for idio^

unlined cloak, bad been „ wky n° vras

Switzerland, where , that he for which

(sic/). It must be ^f£interesting inaladj^t°^ ^ ^ ^ent

—to say nothing of g^ritzerland (c^ ^ ®'^®^I^^°rcnns

undergoing heatment la b ^ ^nay class of per^JJ

for idiocy, fUst ^aiag) nroverb that a xotber’s death y
fte tath into a toby at h,s f„ a sode®

are tacky. Only tlmt;: who died wtaleon .^ »' P“

sayhevrasaheutenanri subordinate (yo

disappearance at car<is ^ on s°^en), our baron

siblf for an in old days, gen

remember what it 255

'“‘y “ '■“y *h Russia

the owner in ^ ^“idowner— we will call him P.— was

nvvnor g°^<^en days of four thousand souls (The

S L understand, gentleien,

SnarS If ”T' t° believe! ’) He was

idle lives abroad in *^uues and sluggards who spend their
pSsiln Sa ’ dn^®"" “d in .Vinter at the

they have left inrmdM!?'^^' the course of their lives

that at least onp-thivi ''dth certainty

serfs went into tlip nn,^- f ^bute paid in old da37s by the
Chateau-de-Fleu?%?mus^h*f Proprietor of the Parisian
that as it mav thn liah/u ^ fortunate man I). Be

hke a prince^eneaced brought up the noble orphan

pretty ones’) whnnfh^ h governesses for liim (no doubt

LtXS Sdon of th by the way frdm Paris,

nesses from the Chateau dP^Fi The gover-

his twentieth vear onr “d up to

language, not^even hi/ n°?- be taught to speak any

course, is excusable. St the latter, of

of the Russian serf-owner entered the heart

in S.vit 2 er]and— a loHcalwtfm ™®bt be taught sense

might naturally supp?^. thlt^r b°wever: an idle capitalist
sense, especially in SwitrprLn? ™°?®y °oe might buy even

Switzerland under the care of i spent m

, were spent on it. Thp idir^f % celebrated doctor, and thousands
but still, thev «av Hp Ko ' eourse, did not become sensible,
shakes, of co^^e. Suddenl?P Jf d ^ b™an being, no great
His affairs were as usual d- ^ no will of course,

greedy heirs, who took not +ho^ was a crowd of

of noble families who arp trpo*^ interest in the last scions
for congenital idioev THp out of charity in Switzerland

to deceive his doctor and ough an idiot, made an effort

two years, so w-e are told rnn^'^^r being treated gratis for
his benefactor. But the dnci “oeahng from him the death of
fanned at the absence of raeh*^ m bit of a rogue himself-
bis twenty-five-year-old do-nnfh-^'^,^bii more at the appetite of
gmteis, made him a presenf r b® Pressed him up in his old
chanty sent him thir^w „ wom-out cloak, and out of
Luck seemed to have turned got rid of him.

b; fortune, which kills on our hero. But not a

showered all her gifts on this arief ''^bole provinces with famine,
on tin, anstocrat. like the cloud in Kiydov’s

256

the ocean. his niotber’s (wiio ^ old bachelor, a

"“S oftfSi school “,t- ^h £ .1

he ocean. w niothei’s (who na^, — bachelor, a

-.ure a relation ot his ni -,qj^ow, a chuciie^ ^ good

merchant’s fa^yl^ t iid an 0^^ h ®^7e

merchant oi the o^'i ^cto «i _hard ^h ^ ^ ote

sc£. our bamu ttue haron

land I Well, it n-pc pathered He even piched

friends and acq'^^J^M'^L^yauty of easy

who ran after a "0^°” ^h he was ma^oay •

Fvodorovitch, roas Mvshldn erred

‘'Leave off, Kolya I ^^d on all sides. Lizaveta Pro-

SS bSS"'-^' “ r :a,.u.cdauda,.lcd,
'*"S!e «as no te'P ‘°”‘bW S'cc- . .„ ^ Soatog. s" »

went on «adtag » J„iddy-made ”“'Slop-”'”‘ f^^pcSd

w.r.«ish*»jr.r.Si^

scene, une fttessed modes _ y courteous, o visit.

^pither more nor less licentious P- European

wasne jifferent name. house-serf, b . •_! rights

and even m the se

was refused, ti'S’hSSrabk from him

Some time passed and P. x the husband,

^e had borne him, and aft^ards^5°^®°i^ the son

making provision for him. we know, he died without

iawful wedlock, but erew J ™ ' 'vho was bom in

p etely adopted b? f feent name, and cl

'^^"had, none the ^ "’“‘her’s

was thro\vn entirely on his ow^'r« ^ time, also diei

ndden, grieving mother in “ invalid, bei

He earned Ins livbe in provinces (

daily labour, giving lessons his honourab]

St^n f “PP°^ting himself, first at families, and in tha

attending courses of profitaWe ’• afterwards whil

advancement; but oSe can't to his futun

^nFTu^ hour, and mth an LSh ^t a fen

'^‘^^th at last in the mother to keep,

gewabon to him. Now the oup^h Province was hardly m
douKH dedsion for our n^ob1?« ” "’^^t would Lve

doubtips, reader, expect him tom You would '

land^for^^^^j ^tts of P • ten?of It ^m^^lf : ‘I have all my
K Sm ^ ^<i^catiou, govemelTs ^^"t to Switrer-

t^fntc ^ "^th miJUons whflt P t treatment for idiocy; and
duct iessons, though he is nnV^f ^ki ^® ^^^ting his noble

snent on ® "'^°ton father who w u- tL miscon-

Ssume^K by righrto that has been

It was been spent on mp ^^o°.®Pant_on him. The

come to th^ mistake of fort mality, not mine.

£?efit ®°" P--> theVouifVT’ they ought to have

of ae w,f °°t for mine, S to have been used for his
just I oiiPhft^ forgetful P If t ^ the fantastic caprice
am fiit of S, ° “P to Ifis 'son h^ ‘^“tte noble, debate,
has nflelf L^P^dent person,“ nd kl°^ but as I

But, at ant ^ ^ not goint to t? ^u°°ty too well that 1 j

(fte sdottfoS ^ too baLStd

give back nn,F°} ^ ^t it would nof hp ° jhameless on my pa:

by P o?mt J- the teit o^AE™^“t either) if I don

what would hawht, ^^^t would only that were spen

and had ooked °f me, if "ght and justi Fo

, "But uorThS ts n\^t" mste?d „f^„\^?°t '^^°“ght me uj
In spite of fn= t IS not how surh « ‘

■ ■■ aj ^ ""^Presentations of S® gentlemen look- at it
■ his cause soldyfrt^°'i"S Wer, whc
258 ™endsap. and almost

obligations oi remained ’^ut here we come

S oa U>\8“X ltoSs»=ari"SSf S "S

wi not asking lor

to Ws right and his ^ friends clemand d on n s

Sot 'ask to it evem P.rpnl oufa toy-ro^

With a ma]estic air, fjy our scion p ^f ^suiting

There is no legal clmim t^c, fas perpot^i^Le

present the story to tto humorous take a piece

One of our '^cll-too'^ Sibject which dese^ m the

charming epig^P^SukeShls of Russian hfe.
not only in provincial skei

■■ve« im Lyov

■[Vrapped viarm J puycd

Lived like a chtU ana ,

Some simple gaiters Ugkt.

When Kolya taa a' “ffrostoa “"g SnsnSei-

Myshkin and ^iti'°?\,f^^5^face in to h^ J' unaccustomed t

',Sy‘”aS.SS “d ^

bad shattered everyttog, a aloud. game sort-

it by the very fact of having something j^^zaveta Pr

But everyone seemed to be^ ushamed

The girls felt very ^

kofyevna was struggling with violent anger. She too Derhaos

f °t^^-se“sitive people often do in such

ShSiS visitop, that for the first moment he was

nThfd even Lebedyev

ttS^lDDoht ?nH air. The strangest thing L

S£d Pavlishtchev” both seemed sur-

^ nephew, too. was obviously displeased. The

tedie SfL t'visting his mous-

bSk^e^t bSf ^ from em-

aSS?h unmistak-

"This is^'vnnH an delighted with the article,

undertone, thouelffi^'ia Epanchin muttered in an

posed it”' ^ lackeys had met together and com-

insultin^s^Dwit^^?°“’ ^F* you make such

“This thia^^i'c f ' ened Ippolit, trembh'ng all over.

yourself’ general that^'f ' ‘ '

muttered Ihe boxer who* ak^ konomble man, it’s insulh’ng!”

place, I have no intenti^nf°m-

Fyodorovitch answ'ered haisWv*"f/°’^ e^lanatioD.” Ivan
got up from his seat and udfh ’ awfully annoyed; he

entrance of the veranda and sa 3 nng a word went to the

to the party-in t°P "‘"P back

did not think fit to move bis wife, who even now

clai^edS^SSs'^d^Jtar® to speak at last” Myshkin ex-
that we may understand^ni^”"' ^ beg 3 ^ou, let us talk so
article, gentlemen, let it alonp^°^^^' ^ nothing about the
^true; what is said 1 4 arfrft ^^ing, friends, it’s all i

that yourselves; it’s shampfni • r ’ because you know

7 =^<;

ad^sed its being published * ^ ‘ ^ too wouldn’t have

Lebedyev’s nephew. ' because it’s premature,” add^

of'pavliSlSjJei^y® ... I muttered "the

26 o

If?” asked

"Wtoti to" 3°s?* V“'

looking wlh “X£ W ® ,. n,

••And. prince, yon , beaded his 'vay i,vas onty

Mn restrain inmscU. twe ^ to forgotjha

efore my Iricnds? ;,avcta Prokofyevna u- ^ , Lebedyev,

•■Atlastl” nmUcrcdLi^cj^^^ Seen the chans.

"And. prince, yon beaded his . that it was onty

anaWe to'res^|n inrf.

'■°M tt'‘domSronytU"e. ’"“‘

Z “.““?vont Sd yon

too, you did tl rnidst of y gentlemen,

iUustrious pnne , company fo tl ^^ at greatest

not saenh" cSk turn aU these would with the gr

might, so f sP^f^aster of tlic house,

sheet, and 1. ,f ^^dered suddenly

the back oi tljc jo^v. enough, enongh.^ of mdign

"Enough, kcDOoy ^ ur a per „

ning, hut his wor ^^ot enoug

tion. 0 prince, c’^^^^-ting above every ^^dently

-No, excuse me, P .^^^ ^hou ”g » ^t is evio

bawled Lehedyev s n P rm and c ear involved' ^ eet I

^ve must put the case^on ^e^ qu us into the

not nndemtood^^^ S'^an think us such i°°^that if the

account of that q you can whatever, an ^

But is it pp^ ' tiave no icgn , view, we ha though

uudemtand^tw^h ^ S^l^clkim, &

case IS analys Yjte? gut . ^ human, pntu . ^ though

ask for a smgio rou^ there is an conscience. Ana m \

there fe »o lege' and te “ „tten hum™

IS” SSenT^'S Stiotrl Set C™ you-

that are not ^ tieing tumcQ

mthout any feai ° 261

in toe servants' room). We i ' ns waiting

assumed you to be a man nf rr! ^ ™^°ntfear, because we
and conscience Yes S in L

beggars or cadgem but wito L?. not humbly, not as

a bit with a petition but with r ^
hear, not with a petition, bufjlff (y°“

put the question to you dtrerfi.T^^j^ toquest, take that in) we
sider yourself right or wronp^' dignity: do you con-
admit that you were benpfif^^ Bnrdovsky’s case? Do you
by Pavlishtchev? If you a<LiMt^

after receiving millions intpnri s evident), do you,

Pavh'shtchev’s son in to's noverf*^ think it just to compensate
the name of Burdovskv? Vpc though he does bear

words, if you have what you calf,-n°^ If yes, tiiat is, in other
conscience, and what we morp iangiiage honour and

common sense, then satisfviic describe by the term

us without entreaties or eratituHp « niatteris finished. Satisfy
of us, for you are doine it nnt fp " nur part; don’t expect them
lustice. If you are unwihinp tn ^ but for the sake of

we go away at once and the mcp .®^bsfy us, that is answer no,

all your witnesses th f° 3'°“^

luteUigence and low devdonmnn?^! ^ of ooai^e

yourself a man of honour future you dare

ght to do so, that you are trvinp oonscience, and have no
ve finished. I have put th??iif "Sbt too cheaply,

now, if you dare. You can rin > fofo the street

remember all the same thaW^rf ’ fbe power. But

we do not bee!*’ demand and we don’t beg. 3Ve

^ ■■ “Sanrirdis?-

^od even^a "ophew, there was a

perh^n^T evidently fbough eveiy

'ay who seemed in'^^ avoid meddling, e.xcept

-p-y p-„isr'cSar‘T„iiSS

262

opinion,

YOU are quite nS^t ^ if you hadn t leu ^^actly, 1 “ -

So‘Se&>-"

-Excuse mel ^ the same time

-xt ^7 dear sir! .,-. » wasneara oii.

-This . • *is • • • article,

the excited visilom-

-Asfor the article

’itnw auC

• ■ ■ "hrilly

ItovetoWyonnitfiy®^ (ho pomjoi'l S,uv, I atoifjit;
Th ,..oc MjTitten by nini

K v,a.

it he was rigi • must answer against the P that

of Borfovshy- »%7,i,e name 0l y„„, ge» W>“’posi-

for my protes necessary P - is, but m ^ way here

your fnends, 1 tmu our and on our w y

rib

••Tt can have no TcUebaroy;

; “k gS"r«%'>S“fi CMC int» W !f dyc''’*

I’ve been taki^ > ^Q^dcrfcdy ** ' Vnu may P®^

„ J"e"d iV%,. , ,,nee and a 5»f 'j “"'‘

?^'LexecpUon^^^

Possibiy> 6^' “toow R rtffpnce aDOUi * -aoUv,
™a!y. "tbongbl aon’t lake oSen And

o£. BxA let '^n-t^thc faintest vash t?^j.grely '’'^thont

swear 1 baven one it ^va5 n . g^cb

gentlemen, one the pavUshtchev, ^ ^shtchev

offended at of a to me. Pavi^^

■ to hear of the e -cTcliebaroy .pr^pod. Ach, ' ip\e

tatcly' conv ineed-^d hw ^ yanj'u'rt noblo°n>a" “^OTgb'^

„eb a ca«'„*Y;n =?“'' °iS posifiveneBS S aS mast
, pesl ab endn^“^„d, “Idn^ he « Xaned man.

rauTS’caking " gc was a te”^S|m!shcd men ot

So'S"in in d.;,:rS nn^-j ^Sy

fTicS'and Ws k-ftS-an idiot

«e all I member al iu trao iS.t fi"* ^ "”

3t that time
could talk R

VVe are not childreS!’ Yb^meMMn ^ t^is too sentimental?
It s gomg on for ten, remembefSiat.“°”’'^ straight to the point;

my firrt misiustfSi!iSl'^"i dS??h "-After

mistake and that Pavlishtchev mthf^.oii^ made a

I very much amazed tlwt a son. But

IS, I mean so publicly, give a\S? tho f readily, that

disgrace his mother’s name Fnr^ birth and

^^f^fened me with publicity Tchebarov

" You'v” ^“'righl ” “'"^ Lebedvev’s nephew.

, "The son is not r;sw,.sibVl"°.,”S'^‘' ” Burdovsky.
fabler and the mother is not ‘n hi ^ ™™e)ral conduct of his

sSr f

voice. ^ Ippolit squeaked in a most un-

2 *^ aSuIr^^^ Myshkin hurriedly put in.

wTself at once, at the tiW fJ help it. And I

Fo r^eime into the case for^f r ^ let my

fnr T>’^r Burdovsky’s deimnrJ I consider myself bound
lor Pavhshtchev, I oueht fn ^ sake of my feeling

bS"j ""Vw “Sirs' If " “y Sb

gan about this, gentlemen Mr. Burdovsky. I only

me unnatural for a son S b^tS^hT seem to

^poSd"n°'''^'T

hound to h ' 7 ° vT swndlers, and th^^'r ^^^P^css person, easily
S?A& T ^ a 'sonS ^ aU the mori

secondly, bvS'F-'*".T’-fi^t, by oppos-
' thirdly f decided to good offices and

med to give him ten thousand

^dressed ^..^t^^Tdescribed my ^ per^P

"^§?Bs“v»Sset&s'i

“'°'!“S SS* “"’’'Jd

^vent to Paris to find pretty Jen a^d yoj^^

In my opinion vc^ propose to 6'^ ^ ^sicv more m P?-^j^nd 1
me altogether, but I fond of .^^t’s

They fell upon Jiim almost in

Convinced now of what? '

3 lury, - X--— — XU

Burdovsky is^mysd^f^^I eec^now^*^^ ^ k ^ clearly what Mr,
an innocent man takon “in i ° • • ♦ He is

and therefore I ouoht to sn-^e ^ helpless man . , .

Gavril Ardah'onovifcJi__io whom fi*' second place,

and from whom I heard noihincr t entnisled

traveUing. and aftenvards ^ ® ^

has just now, an 1 ™ ^ “ Petersburg-

has seen tlirough TcheSrovl c mt^iew, told me that ho
that Tchebarov is just wliat r t ^ proofs, and

men. that many ^0010^ ^ ^ ^now. gentlc-

my reputation lor givine awav^” me as an idiot and, owing to
that he could casi^ Tcliebarov thought

my feeling for PaSS ^BSt^tlie^h"
out. gentlemen, hear me out ! thl r is— hear me

now that Mr. BurdovsL k ^ appears

Gavril Ardalionovitch S iw Pavh'shtchev at all.
he lias positive proof of it^ win assures me that

One caTscarcelylSieve it IfL ' >^0“ think of lhatl

made! And listen, there are no^f-^ the to-do tliat has been
yet, I don't believe it mvself Pmofs I I can't beh'evc it

because Ga\-ril ArdalionSi, stiU doubting,

the details yet, but that Tchoham time to give me all

no doubt at all now! He has imtv,'^ ^ scoundrel there can be
and on all of you, gentleS, uK P°°^ Mr. Burdovsky
IMrt your friend (for he obvioncn nobly come to sup-

that, of course!); he has imnoc^J needs support, I understand
yolved you all in a fiSfdSt has in-

fraud, it's swindling!” siness, for you know it really

. _ How swindling? xt„. *u

IS It possible?” exclamations Pavlishtchev? How

^Burdovsky's party were^l • sides,

out ‘^°'^rse, it's swindlinPl^’m?’^^'?!’*® perturbation.

1 ft to^ not the son of Pavlichti^ Hnrdovsky turns

is. of course, if he hrs claim is simply Luda-

^ been deceived, th^^ whv^lTn*^! *™th); but the fact is he
that's why I say th^t L °° character's being
^Pherty. and ca^'t Pib'ed for hii

undpret^ a scoundrel too. But I am it were not so, he

sS I jnst in the T that he did not

Switzerland; I, too. 4ed to mutt^" heiore I went to ~

Ss “^°herentIy_one tries to

•t Understand allowed

^ery weU all the sam^ be ^^""'^^Vousand m

to spe^ ot it. A hams up ten ^

Pavlishtchev , ana ready to Ng ^ovsky '^^.-hool in

Ranged my ®®d Xv. Before Mr- hn tovmding a scho
scene 1 meant to hev ^ ^akes no^ ^[u Bur

memory ^fior Mr- BardovJ^V'^^ost as 8?° genuinely

it’s for a school or '^vwdfo deceived*. Jeg

i,nottheson oiPavUeen so tv^fhtchevi don't h^

his, because he n ot pa of ' ^tch will

bebeved himself to h^^^_ us ^^^oavril Ardahoj^p ^^^y

Aidalionovitch-i <iov?n _ roni^^^ ^ “ „xy lieco

“ro. ^Jfto t dtocOy. ‘S'elVhe dS a‘

«PW“ details »'?* fd„vs4 Z

i« a«^

^iwTsrdoym!';^ succeeded to sit^«i|Sy

l“sss;r53?,‘ sr -y'^

Por the last °\^atient haste. urse help ^ gs ^lat

and fondly. he couldn ^ f up

talk above the r^t. assumph?" ^ ^gen '''°^^gd himself

gretting afterwa ^ badn ^uid not have - biies and

Iscaped him n^’} control, he certain down

loused almost bey ^ ^o utter a ”°a^rhing- Bead^

so baldly ^d l^S statements. ^^Jt bis heart publicly

unnecessarily can . ^jngtemome ^urdov^y for which

in the place than a ..jusolted B ^ SL of the ten .

tlie fact tl^t he had fr^.Sand. the offer^° ^^de to

assuming that he ^.^g^^gd in Sm ^gbool ha ^nd ]ust

he himself hadb^nfo destined for ^ ^^g a eh^^.-f ought to

thousand that had b Jin carelessly. people- ,, ^fyshkm

his thinking coarsely an ^^gud^n^^, nlone, >ightl

assuiimi5 treater r r^- a scnu^* auu. j—

he himself hadbjinfo destined for ^ ^^g a eh^^.-f ought to

thousand that had been carelessly. people- ,, ^fyshkm

his thinking “Wisely ^ of afondhm^^^^^ f

because it had iK ^gd it to hnu ^ vih he no j^^oxysm of
have waited and ofiere ^p^ *ere yi a pa

thought at one?. 'jgai idfotl unherto sfood on

Yes 1 am an idiot, ^„5S. ■ o bad hath , . .„ fuvita-

shame and eidr^n ^^daliono^teh. ^^r^

Meanwhile .Gn^ tlent, came m ^ cahn y

oneddepersistenttysn bimand

tion,tookuphisstana

CHAPTER IX

Ardalfonovitch began
«y. and obviousli^-n listening to Sm

. you will not atinmr^t _ A ^'s eyes round xvifh

intentrS^ BurZk^^Sr °«tch begar

deny attempt and <^^^5 round witl

i« t“™ ycTO“Lr‘

The date nf Earned to Mr ^ ^““r worthv

torlion of be loo ca^ij? “ TO«r father.

KellerVaSl""^--^° insulting to ‘bat the dis-

J^rr. KJicr^ ""Vst be ascribed ™°‘ber-in Mr.

making vourri"” ™^^'nation; he no^rL!hf^^° piaidulness of
your imerest. M? statement ’ r

"No. T read as far ac • • • there can be no

n J*

nin^y

ih B«rfov*y.

“=« V," SSnot »Sl= uils «, mo «M= COSO,

£'“o“ • ■■

'f rr,nrse, falls to the ^ rhair. .

«rv« r • ' "°"''

'"‘SrAc?°- ,„ go cot. ^

He took up Burdovslcy. case; to’'

should nol if the , bowed,

he plcasautc speaking. ^'JJho had got up

to tollow l’’"^'/^is boldness, be apparently ^^olently

, ..ItoWyo<.>ml'»SVov-

SitcteVoO"”' dofsTOothoIoa'^E ...rioliooo-

jSkiS frt

S™t'S’““u"’'y'’='i‘lioSS;°- MebaraV, to

=“ ■•»°&e.iTr“‘ar “‘“"Pted, imi-

fhnfV * ^ inixed up in thfc Knc-* ^ l* ^^dovsky by prov-

^_at s impudence, sir! through ignomnr.P^Z

so much kinrin “^terested, that ATr the informa-

only beiS on vour^ Pavhshtchev bestowed

Pa4hSev ;as -^?-- Burdovsky,

that he vmuIH ^ J^- tn his earlv ^tb whom Air.

suddenly T ho have mamV? ^ much so

is veiy little ^t this perferH ^ ^ “°t died

inform you how vn’ P®^haps qui^ fornnw true Md certain fact
years old, and brni, '?<.™°ther was taken^h!^^^ further, I could
tion, that she had '^B.hy him as thounh ^t ten

that the trouble h ™®®'herable down? had been a rela-
quieting rumourc ^ about her naw ^Part for her, and

'vas even thonp}if^+?™® Bavlishtche^c to extremriy dis-

ended b^ her S ^as ""^^tionl It

efethat I can p^i“tier twentieth vear'^,^lf„.^5i^' ^“t it

A ilOOn COTTi"

drown h'S gnei, ^ter roarrymb j , leit

y. O'™ 'f^d'entoly iUt

ss l-^:ss,s PV&J'aloo ■ '■ - '•

wt, {or Ihe constanj- hundred ^ou , ^

te-tuf you mother's o'-^jr^d^entirely h .

child. o fond of yo'J t o^^%l-

case, to my .'^^'Sortance. you were f ^""^y little

a fact of pnmc imp ^,^5 ""^^supervision), ^"^^stiouse-

of Pavlishtchc ht nn^er spe ^ locmhers , ^her was

gymnasium ^^^lavUshtchcv and me yo^r tame

ffftherelaUon^^av^^^^^ om ^^/^Ush-

hold to imagine th y s the later yce^? “I ^s vnU.

deceived by convicbon m alarmed ^ t^possiblc

PTCW into 3 - 6 11 Yiie iclntion -r»iten nn^ _ pars toOi

SIv's We '"ten «ere le SWW „ S W.

and when the ongm doubt that osscssion of y ^ing.

to investigate therm ^ cornpletej honour ot

Mr. Burdovsky. ^ ^^^tance 1 v^n she dominated by
mother, Amours, ou, her son, 'ver d^^^ ;Bmdov-

ip«AiTr ot these <_^-.4-on^ thnt y nioth » ^iDce

conclusion. preparing for his

now fully convS’e^ft^t

generosity and not as his <=on

that iIr/Burdovsk5flho^;n^^^■^^‘^^^^°°^^^

and approved of him when hk arH upheld hlr. Keller

tins because I Iook^non^n„" ! Jnst now. I say

dovsky. In the second E,. honourable man, Mr. Bur-

the least intention of robl^rv .*hat there was not

Tchebarov; that's an imoo^nf ®^‘^ing m the case, even in

prince, speaking warm^^-u?!!L?°“‘ because the

opinion of the dishonest^ and ^ shared his

the contrary, there was 0"

though Tchebarov may reallv he a^^^

appears as nothing wd^e tha^i a k rogue, in this case he

He hoped to makf Tmeat d?ai scheming attorney.

calculation was not onhf arS^ ^ 4

safe; it was based on fhl reSn masterly, it tos absolutely
av^y his money and his gratitudt^anH^ which the prince gives
and what is more, on th^rinro' ^®^cct for Pavh'shtchev,

^ to the obligaHons of hon^w anVJn chivalrous views

dovsk3^ personally, one mav ^sforMr.Bur-

id^ of his own, he was so work^ blanks to certain

other friends that he took ur> tho Tchebarov and his

but also as a service to truth ^nmcr hardty from self-interest,
what I have told you it humanity. Now after

dovsky is an innocent man1n c^?/”%'^'"f^ ^ that Mr. Bur-

pmce more readily and z^nn^hr all appearances, and the
fnendly assistance and that snhcfe than before, will offer him his '

'^cn he spoke of schooh a ^ ^® ^a^erred

Stay, Gavril ArdaUono^^^h ^ Pavlishtchev.”

genmne dismay, but it was tooSate^^^ ’ cried Myshkin, in

_ I have said, T . , ?® ^ate.

cried
t take

il^Wn. >-- pocte,

H„,vd„eayo„, Ho..„ed,.„, Th.

'*-« ^««d,ed and

274

VC

as a

DoWorcn^o explained.

him as a chanty cried Bnrdoyslcy- 1

ciSsSs-i-JSss’e-s

•p;e’ leSnf yon ^ou^S

"TavrirArdahonoviten ^

w. ^rcntVLrci to °n f-rfcrently,

■ ■ ■

from sajnog. lost m o*crs \tch oi In-

But her Nvords were dispu^ ntmosl pdcn

oudly aad drscussm^ was roused to ^ dignity, he l,st

hom"-ylnS.^Se;etostintheS^^^

But her words were disputmo. utmost pnen

loudly aud ^'^gijpdiin ''■'^8 X°X!ounVd dignity he ^ j^st

Fyodorovitch Ep^^j^ nir ot wouua^^^^^^^ p^t m n

dignahon, an a. Lehedy ^ to

Lizaveta ProKoiy ,„u iustice, you oo *-.^ politely).

word- . „ one must do B oxpre^ t ? ^h an

‘ 'Yes, pnnee, one ^ and money rn ^o

make use of your ^ • ^"2iSe for an h°"°'^St too inno-

you’vc managed to on^ iOs impossr^^^^.^ either a bit
ingenious way dreumstan^s. ^^^^^^gtwhi ^

take it nnder . . . You ^fnot two hundred

-Si « I -y “•

S?S w-ng M. “

that there may .. cne ~npht it up at

f,yf M-;- . ^?fsi -To^y\

Mdatoovucl. man-

Sf»°* KS-an^S o« "STe perpl^^y-

couise a hundred rouble; k niff ' spiteful vexation. "Of
not just the same Lt n — fi%, and it’s

initiative is the great ttdL*^n Jff t ^ matters. The

are missing is only a deteil wff ^ hundred and fifty roubles
does not accept your charifv matters is, that Burdovsky
m your face, and in that that he throws it

it’s a hundred or ttvo hundrprt^*^ difference whether

accepted the ten thousand ^ ^“^dovsky hasn’t

fought back the hunS f f wouldn’t have

That hundred and fiftv ronh? ^ dishonat.

journey to see the pSe Yoifrff Tchebarov for his

at our inexperience in bu<;inpec™^^ jaugh at our awkwardness,
to make us ndiculous but H ’ 4 ^^^ Tomr very utmost

We’U aU club t^eE sir E ^ f ^shonest.

roubles to the pimce- wf h fa back that hundred and fifty
at a time, and^^'ll’Ei^f^ ^ *^as to be a rouble

poor, Burdovsky hasn'f interest. Burdovsky is

account after his ioumev wf°if ’ Tchebarov sent in his

°°t have done thf sam to win the case . . . who

"I shall go out S m, Prince S.

"It reminds me, ’ ’ ^ladame Epanchin.

f anding there watchinv Paylovitch, who had long

ecen^ by a laivyer who hWn f ^ celebrated defence made

Pay^rty of his client as an toward in justification the

robbed stv an excuse for htc t.a,r;„.: j j

sense/’ “"s-. rt's time to cut short this nom

one Was m ternhl

Sfd i^^f ’ ^th flashingfff f ® Aung back her head
able she f haughty, fierce.

anti "'a flashing J “™S “ack her heao

able '^^^ance, she IcEe^d tlf° ^

She hart^^ moment to distintuu'cK'^i,*^^ whole party, scarry
pSsSS that pit^Kn^ ^atween friends and foes'

EedLtff f ^I^an the cSJf/'f “P^assed but at last irre-
Thoce whn f *^ak on someone W ^mediate conflict, for
“6 who knew Madame *a leading impulse.

ii-pan^n felt at once that someW

276

a bit, I roust bu- teen stayu'B ^ cbaos,

ryo« ®efsi

he, ‘for da^g you braggart? says he,

pleased to be augjung ^', .^.^e .^fuse Ynovf

on Lebedyev s uephew. ^ he o Will

demand, '^\^%\rmorvoy^ Youvnll?

idiot Nvill trail off to-rogr ^on t y

his money to them g ^ « and bumble voic •„ ^te

you or not? Mv<dilcin, iu a soft reckoning

^ “I shall,” sard Mygton- y^u are ^ 4 a

"You hear I _So.thatL. “The luouey^^^^^g us.

^ 4-/

^ ^ ' ,1 humble voice. „

L Myshkin, \y°yorare reckomng ^ ^

y;u hearl s7tbafs '^^f^tSoney is ^ . . . l^o,

LagaintoDoktorenko T . . -

,ket, that’s why other fools. 1 se

rsefSPP^’’ oal" cried Myrt^dro^me we v^ent^^

"IJa/eta ^rW^S X

"Come away, Li^JJ ^ » pnnce S. sax ^^^uchin

et us take the pnn crared, Some

xt W on one toteS^

„?le?ninely:au™^;, Sy ^

of those standing furuxe un exp ^adam,”

on the sly, Lebedyev s face .^eryvhere, madam.

«^Jcierment) who was anyone?''

^d fflurderyou buVSf

f ‘ M tc*?’ tSj s ? f ” -SL tsi'

what/. Station', it's Jt's

«u^g IS upsfde-do;;n' ' F°P/ ^^eiytlnW - or good-

^e middle of thp cf grows un ?+ everv

ally biy'j;,gff ins of pS^^;‘:taa>at. doym S'fe’.;

t'inlto hyr°fe »as . f„S' 'J"«t,w“U'g""| <'■'

recno' *^^^0 breath^ oominpj p your heads

S ^ "0 0?eVh:fd befo“li3''^;^-s ev4 right id
tbS ^"okey p ofa and ^ SS, of

article ^et strive foriS^^tyou woise

^rom We don'f^ hi ip ■ ^^and on

S’dTS y sSsori for tte SfT?/^' 7 g-“/tuS

taboos novel

278

you repudiate it? Lunaticsl They regard

inhuman, ^ecaiise it mes s osfhS

think society inhuman, y ^ it you

the censure of society, and pxoect her not to suSer.

to society in the don’t believe in God, they

Lunaticsl Va,in are so eaten ^

don't beheve in Chnstl wny. y another, that s

and vanity that you ^ i^toosv-^rvydom, isn’t it chaos,
what I prophesy. J *^LWis dSraceful creature must
isn’t it infamy? And after th , ^e°there many more like

ueeL go and beg their my disgracing myself with

vou? Wiat are you laughing at. . there’s no help for

^•nn? Whv I’ve disgraced myself 00,^1’” she pounced upon

How^Don’t you go^inning. gn sweepl sh^.^ ,

rr,nr,i;t "He is almost at his last g P> j pj^n^ed to Kolya
Yo“ vfccnupled ^ hta

aeain— "he does nothmg j vou are not too old for a

Ssm, you don’t b^eve m G A odd ju ar »

whipping e I^^ov Wolayevitch? she a

them to-morrow, Pnnee i,yov
prince again, almost breathless.

^ ** iM jun -himed quickly to gy

"iSn I don’t want to know yon! go to this

out, but at once ,\o^TpSt "How dare 3’ou laugh at

atheist too?’’ she pomted . P?goream, and darted a PP
me I” she cried in an unnatural screai

unable to endure his sarcastic p pkofyevnal Lizave

"Lizaveta Prokofyevnal Lizavem^^^^^^_

Prokofyevnal” ^^s heard on alK _,;wered

'•Maman, this is Janovna,’’ Ippo^

'*Don*t wonv yourself, Agla^^ f , -yp to luiu and
caM? Si 5 k^P“'' 0 fyev ”0 ,«»n «

seized him by the arm, and her 'vr^thfol

still holding it tight. .Sdj^?J°°^^^yourself, ready to

SS r"annil attack a dgngj”“;,yg,ad of pennWon

S&T’ >' ^ V, ■ not leave od for a M

is ds^g, ye. b? — ^^’?„Saiu.St«!

Prokofyevna, letting go his a^> <<you are not fi
at the blood he wped from his ups-

onri

a W'hisner '“L answered in n 7 “ li
^ mother I sLu^f- to-day

so a week agf ^ ^novv?^ B 1 °- ^^- • • •

'°,fay two wori to you !?

,r ?i ?! »bS Lt; r-'-

-=« on somy °'''“'''"

■•»nfei"t' » V no:;^-?E h^/^- S-o'S

pms“4r ^K?

'^?,g^^^leafan:^vay^^"^^^PPeaedat^>avI^^^^^^^^^ I 4

Sl~ce C!f •» '^-0

S“ -r "■ “ oT'e^fe;? « - np " ^

: , . ' - positively on fh7 oven.”

^ ^gJaia Ivanovna helr^ ^ atrikinr

& whfS^S ^ I?

“= « 'ook^siiif^ioui?/”., t"t'

: ;■ 2So for the last

time in my life." Ippolit smiled a sort of awkward, wry smile.
"Here, the prince is here, and your husband, and the whole
party. Why do you refuse my last wish?"

"A chair 1" cried Lizaveta Prokofyevna, but she seized one
herself and sat down opposite Ippolit. "Kolya," she com-
manded, "you must go with liim, take him, and to-morrow I’ll
certainly go myself. ...”

"If you allow me, I would ask the prince for a cup of tea. . . .
I am very tired. Do you know, Lizaveta Prokofyevna, I be-
lieve you meant to take the prince back to tea with you; stay
here instead, let us spend the time together, and I am sure the
prince will give us ^ tea. Excuse my arranging it all. . . ,
But I know you, you are too good-natured, the prince is good-
natured too ... we are all ridiculously good-natured people.”

Myshkin made haste to give orders. Lebedyev flew headlong
out of the room, Vera ran after him.

"That’s true,” Madame Epanchin decided abruptly, "talk,
only quietly, don't get excited. You’ve softened my heart. . . .
Prince 1 You don’t deserve that I should drink tea with you,
but so be it, I'U stay, though I am not going to apologise to any-
one! Not to anyone! It’s nonsense I Still, if I’ve abused yoir,
prince, forgive me — as you like, though. But I am not keeping
anyone,” Sie turned with an expression of extraordinary wrath
to her husband and daughters, as though they had treated her
disgracefully. "I can find my way home alone.”

But they didn’t let her finish. They all drew airound her
readily. Myshkin at once began pressing everyone to stay to
tea and apologised for not having thought of it before. Even
General Epanchin was so amiable as to murmur something
reassuring, and asked Lizaveta Prokofyevna politely whether it
was not too cold for her on the veranda. He almost came to
the point of asking Ippolit how long he had been at the univer-
sity, but he didn’t ask him. Yevgeny Pavlovitch and Prince S.
became suddenly extremely cordial and good-humoured. A look
of pleasure began to mingle with astonishment on the faces of
Adelaida and Alexandra; in fact all seemed delighted that
Madame Epanchin’s parox3?sm was over. Only Aglaia still
frowned and sat in silence at a little distance. All the rest of the
party remained, no one wanted to go away, not even General
Ivolgin, to whom, however, Lebedyev whispered in passing
something, probably not quite pleasant, for the general at once
effaced himself in the corner. Myshkin included in liis invitation
Burdovsky and his friends, without exception. They muttered

281

'vi.crofhcv

"■»« mmcdiaMy, It sliift W™. '»' '<■■'■.■« toSjIS
CH/VP7']rj^ ^

^hini by \vi(h (!,„

and seemed suddeLv cml ’ cim o*n .l^^adcd to

confusion. ^ '^^'barrasscd, and looked

a sort of sti-nngo ^’^Dkofve^ml " k ,

Sood diin.? n J cupsi: ' 'Wlh

Lobcdycv's sidebon^^I »scd ^ ‘J'cy

they arc part of ids twr ?'^j''SJass, locked nr. Stand in

."■<m locked up “ ? iio'-rr . . ,v ' t' i“ "’o '“Sion, i "

'"J'our honour „,■• “I'l hero he’s bm el,, .f ‘""om to keen'

?S TOonl !o'st',S'h “ PWf' .t“"

oS™/'s'f,"e’y‘'

rorho?;^!’'* '00 -ch

•ci^°vri?so"iSeS;,.

.•hd",™ "'"''ofaid"™ Se“£"«'-''’

' Vev,e„, Pav,„.

Si oo^Prised.” “ I"""'' ''-ill beheve ,’?« '"'O'*)'’ "'on’d

to hta 5;“do '"O'- Pn'ooe,” said , ■ °"“ “"‘' "o ' '’‘

ppnr^i , bear? " ^ ° ^-izaveta Pmi-e,r

Pott^fhift roond ,he„ - , •“™”S

lyevni! Wd anrSssi^fog'o kept omeionsJe

6 aoout Lizaveta Proko-

282

"He was saying tliat this clown here, your landlord . .
corrected the article for this gentleman, the one tlicy read this
evening about you."

Myshldn looked at Lebedyev in surprise.

"Why don't you speak?” cried Lizaveta Prokofyevna,
stamping her foot.

"Well," muttered Myshkin, scanning Lebedyev, "I see now
that he did."

"Is it tnie?" Lizaveta Prokofyevna turned quickly to
Lebedyev.

"It's the holy tnith, your excellency," answered Lebedyev
firmly, ivithout hesitation, laying lus hand on liis heart.

"He seems to be proud of itl" slie cried, nearly jumping up
from her chair.

"I am a poor creature,” muttered Lebedyev. His head
sank lower and lower, and he began to smite himself on the
breast.

"What do I care if you arc a poor creature? Pie thinks he’ll
get out of it by saying he is a poor creature I And aren’t you
ashamed, prince, to have to do wth such contemptible people,
1 ask you once again? I shall never forgive you I"

"The prince will forgive me,” said Lebedyev sentimentally
and with conwetion.

"Simply from good feeling," Keller said in a loud ringing
voice, suddenly darting up to them and addressing Lizaveta
Prokofyevna directly, "simply from good feeling, madam, and
to avoid giving away a friend who is compromised, I said
nothing this evening about the corrections, although he did
suggest kicking us downstairs, as you heard yourself. To put
things in their true light, I confess that I really did apply to liim
as a competent person and offered him si.x roubles, not to correct
the style, but simply to give me the facts, which were for the
most part unknown to me. The gaiters, the appetite at the Swiss
professor's, the fifty roubles instead of two hundred and fifty:
in fact all that arrangement, aU that, belongs to him. He sold
it me for six roubles, but he did not correct the sfyle.”

“I must observe,” Lebedyev interposed with feverish impati-
ence and in a sort of crawhng voice, while the laughter grew
^ louder and louder, "tliat I only corrected the first half of the
article, but as we didn't agree in the middle and quarrelled over
one idea, I didn't correct the second half, so that everything that
is bad grammar there (and some of it is bad grammar!)
mustn’t be set do^vn to me. ..."

283

“gKe£,”!fi^kj’ou,"s3,yy ^‘^obPako.

*vo6t. "? "Mo ho f^°‘’onboa% •°S«lI.or
‘"?*“iy '®"S &,“ o?,k"''“?'”gi”

o,i-ora-?M-o s “p.

r'^T&“tro'hif,r Ssr 'i^'

f»-givooX.P™'« "ill SSI !, '’“M J.avo®S?,<° ^'■'dyav

1 nnrJ

P^i J “'^ess-^I

°°^y. for the ^e effect if^ ‘^°'^''crsatSr> ■^'^^vefa

f°^§iven it glP^ce 'vih Sn^J^d I^bedyev

^ind£Z^y • • . SeUs t and h 3'ou

fflind forgiye^

bis tone: "Weh?^'^''''®‘aProJcofyevna

• • • with grif deal aboiit , ”°°deringat

tremeJv " f Pleasure of thp .

«' &d tet* '™« on. • • • Pw '«.« ®S° *”« "J ttJne

you know you would be ashamed next day ... {I must admit
1 am not expressing mj-self properly). *I commend this
extremely and respect it profoundly, tliough one can sec from
the very countenance of his c.xcellency, your husband, how
improper all tlus seems to him. He-hel" he chuckled, com-
pletely at a loss: and he .suddenly coughed, so tliat for two
minutes he could not go on,

"Now he is choking!" Lizaveta Prokofyevna pronounced
coldl}' and sharply', scanning him wth stem curiosity. "Well,
my dear fellow, we've had enough of you. We must be going."

"Allow me too, sir, to tell you for my part," Ivan Fyodoro-
vitch broke out irritably, losing patience, "tliat my wife is here,
visiUng Prince Lyov Nikolayevitch, our friend and neighbour,
and tliat in any ease it's not for you, young man, to criticise
Liraveta Prokofyeraa’s actions, nor to refer aloud, and to my
face, to what is uTittcn on my countenance. No, sir. And if
my u-ife has remained hero," he went on, his irritation increasing
almost at every word, "it's rather from amazement, sir, and
from an interest, comprclicnsible nowadays to all, in the spec-
tacle of strange young people. I stopped inysclf as I sometimes
stop in tlic street xrhen I see .somcihing at which one can look

SLS m * • AS a « > AS • ■ •

"As a curiosity," Yevgeny Pavlovdtch prompted him.

"Excellent and true," Hts excellency, rather at a loss for
a comparison, was delighted. "Precisely, as a curiosity. But
in an}' case, what is more amazing than anything, and even
regrettable to me. if it is grammatical so to express oneself, is
that you arc not even able, young man, to understand that
Lizaveta Prokofyevna has .sta}'cd with you now because you
arc ill — if only you really arc d}dng — so to say from compassion,
for the sake of your piteous appeal, sir, and tliat no kind of slur
can in any case attach to her name, character, and consequence,

. . . Lizaveta Prokofyevna I" the general concluded, with a
crimson face, "if you mean to go, let us lake leave of our dear
prince ..."

"Thank you for the lesson, general,” Ippolit interrupted sud-
denly, speaking earnestly and looking thoughtfully at him.

"Let's go, niaman. How much longer is tliis to go on?"
Aglaia said w'ratlifuUy and impatiently, getting up from her
cliair.

"Two minutes more, dear Ivan Fyodorovitch, if you allow
it." Lizaveta Prokofyevna turned with dignity to her husband.
"I believe he is in a fever and simply delirious; I am sure of it

285

K

from ill's eyes' iip »

fof “"^ My. and I’aia, iS w?: n

"r tu , ' ^'as aU cfi„ already

again «’ere canahl .

sav '«’ of h^SS "^c^'clopmeni " r

BS«SfS"A‘S,-‘S*~S:

'SJi'’J‘^ 4^‘"i> "£""'^ '» ws" S"‘:"> ?'

fra't it? and ?.l^ a'vfujjy f^^at

i.inln ultnd°"^'>' -^niles:

beautv Isn't it? "^y <o bis mo/h’^!"®'

fra't it? and tha^t^ awfujjy fond'^n/^”*^

A fh- ^ swear thaf'c ^ndcli^'T ^y ^i bet th

P°'"t ho chokoH "’hi be 'f'srespect t

S^^-i MpSlirr'*? »°««r ••°& ''’'-yttina.

i“S» »

\-r • "• SpS'^ ■'"“Sbing. ..J ^ . ----'•

"Yi iorgolten''^ 3'°^'

-i. -•■ PMce ~-"

^ H • d df -

386 '^"''‘^^Ij'oubelieve^f

you have only to talk to the peasants out of the window for a
quarter of an hour and they’ll agree with you and follow you
at once?”

‘‘It's quite possible I've said so," answered Ippolit, seeming
to recall sometliing. "I certainly did say so," he added sud-
denly, growing eager again and looking at Yevgeny Pavlovitch.
‘‘What is it?”

‘‘Absolutely nothing; I simply wanted to know, to put the
finishing touch.”

Yevgeny Pavlovitch ^vas silent, but Ippolit still looked at him
in impatient e.xpectation.

‘‘Well, have you finished?” Lizaveta Prokofycvna asked
Yevgeny Pavlovitch. "Make haste and 'fim’sh, my friends; he
ought to be in bed. Or don't you know how to?”

She was in terrible vexation.

"I am very much tempted to add,” Yevgeny Pavlovitch went
on, smiling, "that everything I've heard from your companions,
Mr. Terentyev, and everything you’ve said just now, and with
such unmistakable talent, amounts in my opinion to the theory
of the triumph of right before everything and setting everything
even before finding out what that tight consists in. Perhaps I
am mistaken.”

"Of course you are mistaken; I don’t even understand you.

. . . Further?”

There was a murmur in the comer, too. Lebedyev's nephew
was muttering something in an undertone.

"Why, scarcely anything further,” Yevgeny Pavlovitch went
on. "I only meant to observe that from that position one may
easily make a jump to the right of might, that is, to the right of
the individual fist and of personal caprice, as indeed- has often
happened in the history of the world. Proudhon arrived at the
right of mind. In the American War, many of the most
advanced Liberals declared themselves on the side of the planters
on the ground that negroes are negroes, lower than the white
race, and therefore that right of might was on the side of the
white men. ...”

"Well?”

"So then 5'ou don’t deny that might is right?”

"Further?”

"I must say you are logical. I only wanted to observe that
from the right of might to the right of tigers and crocodiles, and
even to the right of Danilovs and Gorskys, is not a long step.”

"I don’t know. Further?”

, 287

and

tod

, v-4- i^.woviS’:^'™''’ »■'»' *=

^ must :i(]ri •> i,„ . ... ' inoaeij

tion of\iro'uTl‘‘'S'f

' •' Pf ?’ ‘^^^-ncnTSl*

Oc'na announced sufW. *i^ ^°'*’ toVnd " r •

„, y , sudduiiy ,„ y,,^- ,>;^; -lavda Proko.

,d''ii'."!" Jpi»i.-. ™ih™, ■

lied

kept

"••"tea to (cJI V

one for the Jact fimn* — •.>“mir. . i •., ■-■• * vcKcpi

M ovidcnl that hl^ ’ ttoteven'-

oy Heart ih the

solitude. '’ «oun of his nJn;X^^‘” PJ'^
fi- , good-bve " fin -j ' "’'Sis, in Jus bed,

f y. to said LudlvSP"?“y to f

honour of inviffn ^ '^’d irntably "vi ''’hat he wnnf/vf in

to Wake of the general’l ■' ’ toyou 'yfi:” S”c wortiiy
oRo ” and font- i...

the arm. He looked at her intently with the same laugh which
seemed to have stopped short and frozen.on his face.

"Do you know I came here to see the trees? These here" — he
pointed to the trees in the park — "that's not ridiculous, is it?
There is nothing ridiculous in it?" he asked Lizaveta Proko-
fyevna seriously, and suddenly he sank into thought; then a
minute later raised his head and began inquisitively looking
about in the company. He was looking for Yevgeny Pavlovitch,
who was standing quite near on the right of him in the same
place as before, but he had already forgotten and looked round.
"Ah, you’ve not gone awayl” He found him at last. "You
were laughing just now at my wanting to talk out of the window
for a quarter of an hour. . . . But do you know I am not
eighteen? I've lain so much on that pillow and looked out of
that window and thought so much , . . about everyone . . .
that ... a dead man has no age, you know. I thought that
last week when I woke up in the night. . . . And do you know
what you are more afraid of than anything? You are more
afraid of our sincerity than of anything, though you do despise
us I I thought that too, lying on my pillow, that night. . . .
You think I meant to laugh at you, Lizaveta Prokofyevna? No,
I was not laughing at you, I only wanted to praise you. Kolya

told me the prince said you were a child . . . that's good

Yes, what was it? ... I was going to say something more. ..."
He hid his face in his han^s and pondered. "Oh yes, when you
were saying 'Good-bye' just now I suddenly thought: these
people here, there never -r^l be any more of them, never ! And
the trees too . . . there will be nothing but the red-brick wall, the
wall of Meyer’s house . . . opposite my window. . . . Well, tell
them about all that ... try to tell them; here's a beauty . . .
you are dead, you know. Introduce yourself as a dead man;
tell them that the dead may say anything and that the Princess
Mary Alexeyevna* . . . won't find fault. Ha ha f You don’t
laugh? . . He scanned them all mistrustfully. "You know,
a great many ideas have come into my head as I lay on the
piUow.. . . . Do you know, I am convinced that Nature is very
ironical. . . . You said just now that I am an atheist, but do
you know this Nature . . . Why are you laughing again? You
are horribly cruel!” he pronounced suddenly with mournful
indignation, looking at all of them. "I have not corrupted
Kolya,,” he concluded in quite a different tone, earnest and con-
vinced, as though remembering something again.

• The RuEsiont equivalent for Mrs. Grundy,

289

you can hardJv sfnnr?’ other one was m-\ > ^ doctor

}yhat are we to logs! Sit down

ft • .you,- he ™,=. ‘»”<=l>od the

i:^ipEli£#Ss

t had none t o^ervonp fw j ^ ^eave behind ^

F^r4tj rsr : - ■

fc -T "ft^ tatft "oAo S, ' dof-tVaii

bS o^TT'd mlh h"t - 'i NaS.44'’”?^ ft'

tbrS^T Jaueh "'hv docs «h.: JronfcaJ.

sole creature ^ffenvards? %?• the best

ber doing that = 1 , .S^sed on earn, is her domo- x

Ffsj/s £t!?dSod £5

f ft ft

I gazed out o/thf discover an/ to Jive L‘ 4 '

fealdng for a

«, 2 ;ouo, and Of au i 4"“ “dd^

Prokofyevna. She darted up to him, took his head, and pressed
it close to her bosom. He sobbed convulsively. “There, there,
there! Come, don't ciy. Come, that's enough. You are a good
boy. God will forgive you because of your ignorance ! Come,
that's enough; be a man. Besides, you’ll feel ashamed.”

"Up there,” said Ippolit, trying to raise his head, "I've a
brother and sister, little children, poor innocent. . . . She will
corrupt them! You are a saint, you ... are a child your-
self — save them 1 Get them away from that woman . . . she . . .
a disgrace. . . Oh, help them, help them ! God will repay you
a hundredfold. For God's sake, for Christ’s sake I”

"Do tell me, Ivan Fyodorovitch, what is to be done now,”
Lizaveta Prokofyevna cried bitterly. "Be as good as to break
your majestic silence. If you don't decide something, you may
as well know tliat I shall stay the night here myself; you’ve
tyrannised over me well enough with your despotism I ”

Lizaveta Prokofyevna spoke with excitement and anger, and
awaited an immediate reply. But in such cases those present,
if there are many of them, usually receive such questions in
silence and with passive interest, unwilling to take anything
upon themselves, and only express their opinions long after-
wards. Among those present on this occasion there were some
who were capable of sitting there till morning without uttering
a word. Varvara Ardalionovna, for instance, had been sitting
at a little distance all the evening, listening in silence -with an
extraordinary interest, for which there were perhaps special
reasons.

"My opinion, my dear,” tire general expressed himself at last,
"is that a nurse is more needed here than our agitation, and
perhaps a trusbvorthy, sober person for the night. In any case
the prince must be asked, and ... the invalid must have rest
at once. And to-morrow we can show interest in him again.”

"It’s twelve o'clock. We are going. Is he coming with us
or is he staying with you?" Doktorenko asked M3^shkin, irrit-
ably and angrily.

“If you like, you can stay here wth him,” said Myshkin;
"there’ll be room.”

"Your excellency!” Sir. Keller suddenly and enthusiastic-
ally flew up to General Epanchin. "If a satisfactory man is
wanted for the night, I am ready to sacrifice myself for a friend
... he is such a soul ! I’ve long considered him a great man,
your excellency I My education has been defective, of course,
but his criticisms — they are pearls, pearls, your excellency!"

2qx

for'T "'""'S'vcJ' ghdT/l

Jake hitn home ,,^,i 3’^'J don't u-i,,* u-

“Pnght bitnseUi Whv^‘ Roodn^c.^ *"y friend, ri|

mS?’’ evfe3'ou can hardiy

“•’esmUn'/fS"';' ''"or. mWtdlf""'’’ "o' "o'""/:

fo-do f '"cidcnt with '-it ' '^'C /affgue or painful

S'iSi~”=SsSS'2:,;

:ssic:'r--*£is

do^-sky’and^'??^”^ and Sjj u*i*",PPcd his
stens-L Doktoienko tvi ‘'>c same cnee and

•V^hr^^eoingaity^dSTir^'^ ^'an£nf “P fo Bur-
"•as bo'un i J ^vas i? ‘ !fci. at tfjc veranda

feature in k* 9^*ck]y jo ?*;»« • ’ '

evefv o^' “'P;"“cring udS^"’\^'=“yc«. i" I ^“nd to

PhSt^m 3'cnf-~it? vnf shriek •.r\”^'°cc here."

cvendJiirm^-*'^ ^PPonairo- rT’t -^esuificaj, (Laii 5'°"
'vh5 world?’ you more idiot

n^y^ouk ^ Of you; TbZ"°<^

on to breakinr,’ i'^s aJJ b Jn ^ "'iOi aJI “/ "^^go,
yon. vou ar f ‘i°"'nJ You fir?" "'cnn oonfriwnr! of

^ I S ?f? for mxf??" ^ '^yinp J®" icd me

I won't tak^^ domain alive cowardice! r ®^nme! You,

^ in &y^“S~-anSL '^ant yoj;?"^ ^ you

one of vni, nnd don’r-.?"®! you hear"? / cenevoJence,

once for alip" ^^"“d^efotriuSSrf^'" '"’yenef

F j curse everv-
292

Here lie choked completely.

"He is ashamed of lu's tears,” Lebedyev whispered to Liza*
veta Prokofyevna. “That was bound to liappcn. Bravo, the
prince i He saw right through him.”

But Lizaveta Prokofyevna did not deign to glance at him.
She was standing proudly erect, with her head tlirown back,
scanning "these miserable people” witli contemptuous curiosity.
When Ippolit had finished, General Epanchm slirugged his
sliouldcrs; Iiis wife looked him up and down wrathfully, as
though asking an explanation of his movement, and at once
turned to Myslikin.

"We must thank you, prince, the eccentric friend ^f our
family, for the agreeable evening you have given us all. I
suppose your heart is rejoicing now at having succeeded in
dragging us into your foolciy\ . . . Enough, my dear friend.
Thank you for having let us have a clear view at last of what
you arc, anyway.”

She began indignantly setting straight her mantle, waiting for
"those people" to get off. A cab drove up at tliat moment to
lake them. Doktorenko had sent Lebedyev’s son, the schoolboy,
to fetch it a quarter of an hour before. Immediately after his
wfc, General Epancliin managed to put in his word too.

"Yes indeed, prince, I should never have expected it . . .
after everything, after all our friendly relations . . . and then
Lizavchv Prokofyevna . , .”

"How can you ! How can yon 1 ” cried Adelaida. She walked
quickly up to Myshkin and gave him her hand.

My^ikiri smiled at her with a bewildered face. Suddenly a
rapid, excited whisper seemed to scorch his car.

“If you don't throw up these nasty people at once, I shall
hate you all my life, all my life!” Aglaia whispered to him.

She seemed in a sort of frenzy, but she turned away before he
had time to look at her. However, he had by now nothing and
no one to throw up; they had by this time succeeded some-
how in getting tlie invalid into the cab, and it had driven
away.

"Well, how much longer is this going on, Ivan Fyodorovitch?
What do you say to it? How long am I to be tormented by
these spiteful boys?"

"Well, my dear ... I am ready, of course, and ... the
prince . .

Ivan Fyodorovitch held out his hand to Myshkin, how-
ever, but, without staying to shake hands, ran ^ter Lizaveta

293

‘descended the terra

xn^^f^^’^^’Adelarda. andh i, and

/genuine affection ' v°^ ^^®^othed tnnir i
in good spiS''^“^ i^avJovit^

>Pened as I fCS;, ^ ^nd

'V— hav^ j It Woidd ^„7.. -r

3or fedow— have had^°'^f^^ ""otdd onlu t

2j smiJe. ^ time 1 " ]J

ggja a ^ fle wJnspered, ^-fh a

Ell^^'VWha
A !,^™mg smiJe. time 1 " he

^yent a^Yay nithouf ■ ^tn a

vete Proko?vevnl“^f.°^^

ran

^ ‘‘I have neZf’-^t^ on W people", ?:fi !

» to-mon^ow i- ah

Tte caniage set off “i’ >

ffPPeared.

seconds. AM°^°fyavna went nn i , ^tlOUs? \Vho

seconds. “;™“«'eraa„ . , •““cuus? \Vho

294 “nte Jater Yevgeny

Pavlovitch came back to Myshkin on the veranda, extremely
agitated. .

"Prince, tell the truth. Do you know what it means?”

"I know nothing about it,” answered Myshkin, who was him-
self in a state of e.xtreme and painful tension.

"No?”

"No.”

"And I don't know.” Yevgeny Pavlovitch laughed suddenly.
"I swear I’ve had nothing to do with any lOUs; you may
believe my word of honour ! But what's the matter? You are
fainting?”

"Oh no, no, I assure you, no. . .

CHAPTER XI

I T was not until tliree days afterwards that the Epanchins were
quite gracious again. Though M3^kin, as usual, took a great
deal of blame on himself and genuinely e.xpected to be punished,
yet he had at first the fullest inward conviction that Lizaveta
Prokofyevna could not be seriously angry with him, and was
really more angry with herself. And so such a long period of
animosity reduced him by the third day to the most gloomy
bewilderment. Other circumstances contributed to this, and
one especially so. To Myshkin’s sensitiveness it went on gaining
in significance during those three da}^ (and of late he had blamed
himself for two extremes, for his excessive "senseless and
impertinent” readiness to trust people and at the same time for
his gloomy suspiciousness). In short, by the end of the third day
the incident of the eccentric lady who had accosted Yevgeny
Pavlovitcli had taken in his imagination alarming and mysterious
proportions. The essence of the riddle, apart from other aspects
of the affair, lay for Myshkin in the mortifying question, was he
to blame for this new "monstrosity”, or was it ... ? But he did
not say who else. As for the letters "N.F.B.”, he saw in that
nothing but an innocent piece of mischief — ^the most childish mis-
chief, indeed, so that it would have been a shame, and even in
one way almost dishonourable, to think much about it.

However, on the day after the scandalous evening for the dis-
graceful incidents of which he was the chief "cause", Myshkin
had the pleasure of a morning visit from Prince S. and Adelaida.
"They had come principally to inquire after his health”; they
were out for a walk together. Adelaida had just noticed in the

295

park a tree

tlul “““'Self

^ng was said of a ^ ^‘^<3uainf?n/. ' referred fn

r' “^■■

teS ff 'v»»' '"■“ "

j>» moC. "Br""- ST'"’" ”'fe&bo”,'S*i

to iini ^'^Ho^' ^“ddeSfe^ a v|d?''1

^’t to vou fo that ^""P^essed a areaT^ she

ySterday Sml^"^’ ^"O'v'who “do j.ou sud-

. "It w£Sa ^ ‘^ani-age?- ° P<^on w^P^^'P^ dear

fe? .%*„ ,r

""Ss;-"’ ' ■■ fcne r ''™'' S

• • •

some mo sunpjy ",„l- T^'^'' geny

^■ill wait hS^c ^to Rogo^-^'^ reques'^ hart ' * ^^^'shkin

s?":* 41 fci" "y de„ „, "■“

296 ^^^^Pedhimout. _

But trilK fc w KllppovnaTthS

ussuioy«»I»“''”°'^*"®
ne niiiivvM — ^ aboui u, - “■

T really don't knoNY you

>3S;Ssr^^::riCvevtiv

present quaW"! pee steadily and

Seed yet^he

Sipa^-" r ou Hpe tor yoursel.-*- - SX

•‘But 1 tell y°“ J gfy pavlovitch ‘ ' ^e fortune, and I
knosv it for ^^^f^lsttsya FdipP?^"^, ; 5 ; 4 sVy because he did not

“That was so, I h 5 t__that is, tw° ^,e nothing

^ il“vas long ago How, th® Yon

W 0'=5X^?» could a.=»0',';a« Se either; she h^^t teen

ne iiasn t.

oYthe sort; they hasn't been here e*-- - tu^^ed up

• I •• said Adelaida.

fountaji

?f.nehvork

PJ^te 4 ^,7^ver, he ^^nds x^th Zt ^ompaS^

"’ore aSj^^-bolf

’nonhne T I he hari f O’^ery ^ ,^^0 to Jike

208 But Mvsht;„

• -t from Gavtil Ardalionovitch, v;ho
impatiently expecte^a in *e afternoon.

to come to see ^nm . ^tsix o clo^ ^ l^ysblun

Became ust after dmi^r. "^ril of the affair

At the first must know every detm^^'ople i&e

tot gentleman at least ^ wim

thoroughly. and her husband ° ^^^at peculiar.

Varvara Ardahono Ganya were management

MVdn’s relf ons w.h ^'^;tJsted him with after

MvsbWn had, }J^, particularly this, and m

of^Burdovsky’saffmr. ^^^P^^^g^^eput in h points

it. But in spite of the happened be as it were,

spite of sonietliing di t h ^bout wlgj onieti^

always remained between Myshkin ^d most

mutually agreed ^°^Jxo 7 his part have Ito^ ^ soon as

Ganya would perhaps instance, Mys ^bat moinent

»“ SKSwS. r„X -

questions, i^pMsiy® During the tw ^ absent-mind

certainly much mistaken. ^" Kearny, almost au of

Ss ed, Myshkin was positiv^y ^ ted Then Ganya

There was no P°f Ganya was s’^^^.^bed uway l°r
the one principal que^ g^eat reserve, ^e^ keptnp a v^^
too decided to jeak wt^?^^ stopping. Mng ti on the chie

M«^vna¥”i? =^3sf£S i^gateStW

.ery capricious. n ^

those she fancied, ^yi^pions, d she « dy on o

her: she kad plen^ of ^to, kan

gentleman, staying m

®editate™’ ISf "'Vhe'cES"^ ^^yshJc/n touwV®

?”“!?. Scfe s™» V.v„„, p,,„...,. , “■

•* nf uttered one word

however, oTice more t .Hast He Nva&ed oft

fAS"™;,®.! toa '■??", r S but one of tost Ujteh

Myshkin ws v..r and went uuut..^ .vas

the veranda, croK upon one step. ^j^ose which

to think over and thought oyor, ^ terrible long-

notone of those tliat without deliberation.

are simply leave cverj'thing here

ing came upon ^ ^ come, to g without even saying

the place from whic^ he na e remained

to s 5 me He ^ m°t"drS^ into this world

good-bye to anyone. H wtb it fo’^

here even a few days lo be bo^d up ^ „

inevocably and tba niinutcs, would be

But he did "°^^^°"LSssible” to run a^ay^^^ difficulties that
that it would ^ tlia?he was faced ^ do lus utmost to

almost ’wVsolvc them, ^tunied home after

it was his duty now to thoughts, be m un-

solve them. Ab=oruea » oj an hour, nc
a walk of less ffian a q towards evening

trace of na°”^^'^t^vplv income a thief.

that he had Pf 'if/laV? ” olacc I wouldn’t confess

“Can you fancy ma . your place i erliaps you

“Listen, Keller. If hkin W',.. ^

toyouam^'^uU die and ^^w how hard it
10 one else. vnew, if only you allow me to

ask you? The a

Qjamonds and wp’ii

what I haven’t gof something for (bnm >

|‘‘st, after waiting fancy that? t , That’s just

for Jeralds? ’ safd I ' WJl .tou iivf af

^hS “ »' Sis" i”" “" 5 S' 7 ‘«

pastoral, one S P^nce. what o

it n^a S /o Sell W 1 ''

to wonder.^S'S^^'^ ge °° iiS as

any good influe^e be bim

itedT

^agrees thev .-J. ^ Peculiar \va»^ «r 1 not due tn enJ#

vaiio, . influence could be

*predaS™b=„,'!';*'/"Mi(a6Fa„'3''g“ ^ ™aer.d

Of Which it icd S“'^™ 0 ' «.diS

M?;.7„,f3k 'is* £

ness •Wi, UK Jw M'l

SsP°S^ 2-S-

302 n^ce to sit and talk to

you. I know there is a really virtuous person before me, any-
way; and, secondly . . . secondly ...” he was confused.

“Perhaps you wanted to borrow money?” Myshkin prompted
very gravely and simply, and even rather shyly.

Keller positively started. He glanced quidcly with the same
wonder straight into Myshkin's face, and brought his fist down
violently on the table.

“Well, that’s how you knock a fellow out completely! Upon
my word, prince, such simplicity, such innocence, as was never
seen in the Golden Age — ^yet all at once you pierce right through
a fellow like an arrow with such psychological depth of observa-
tion. But allow me, prince. This requires explanation, for I’m
. . . simply bowled over ! Of course, in the long run my object
was to borrow money; but you ask me about it as if you saw
nothing reprehensible in that, as though it were just as it should
be.”

"Yes . . . from you it is just as it should be.”

"And you’re not indignant?”

"No. . . . Why?”

“Listen, prince. I’ve been stajdng- here since yesterday
evening ; first, from a special respect for the French archbishop
Bourdaloue (we were pulling corks in Lebedyev’s room till three
in the morning); and secondly, and chiefly (and here I’ll take
my oath I am speakmg the holy truth 1), I stayed because I
wanted, by making you a full, heartfelt confession, so to speak,
to promote my own development. With that idea I fell asleep,
bathed in tears, towards four o’clock. Would you believe on the
word of a man of honour, now at the very minute I fell asleep,
genuinely filled with inward and, so to say, outward tears (for I
really was sobbing, I remember), a hellish thought occurred to
me: 'Why not, when all’s said and done, borrow money of him
after my confession?’ So that I prepared my confession, so to
say, as though it were a sort of ‘fricassee with tears for sauce’,
to pave the way with those tears so that you might be softened
and fork out one hundred and fifty roubles. Don’t you think
that was base?”

“But most likely that’s not true; it’s simply both things
came at once. The two thoughts came together; that often
happens. It’s constantly so with me. I tliink it’s not a good
thing, though: and, do you know, Keller, I reproach myself
most of all for it. You might have been telling me about myself
just now. I have sometimes even fancied,” Myshkin went on
very earnestly, genuinely and profoundly interested, “that all

303

baseness. Win* j ' my minrl ®S^m, Anywav r

was anothe? but yn^ deceitfully fb

able motive as wellTc ^O'' your^confol that

'vant it for riotous lit • one As bonour-

^ession, tliafs don’t you?' a you

f a Sutfr

doub e u '^dh ereaf

man; „
pum'sli

’■■ ' 1 and fifi;“roul1"°"’ bumanejyj

^nie in at t, . • ^ear

rsiS5H?S;a-At»

Myml % W* p.m,o„

‘•%«or6,P '"'J"'. 1 .m .b,Srj!4°'<| «’V« ®e my
•■%?’,* “"ly >vords. T m '■'■=

«e thmu’gf, y^' only to you V!riH^’*f,y°" ■ - .'*

304 ''’bether you

even out ““'“A,' ; man-te 0 “"6“ . .

vtet he

ti4ly surpnse rno, ony ^ ^ trade. ^^--V w yout hands

bon't yeven’t von somettog '» • ^

on your heart. Ha

come in for nothing • • ^,^.j4gglcd. avicstion to you-

Lebedyev gnmaced . •^'^,\nnr life. Had you

•‘I’ve been off for here yesterday or

Tell me the .!!f\hat caniage stopping

Sthtag to do »■“' ebbing Us tante

"t«Von gd-«-SsSK “U^ »»'

even sneezing at last.

speak. u ^ ” -1 ( It’s the holy

‘^t'SapVow ;n g“ti“'4V''£'o’!r« so

“yon.soU y”V' Ss,‘.': Wuun =ned ‘ jesU

?«■ ^

f SiJ.1o 4'* S S ri“os«’s sa^;4 ;

-rigglUg agj^g ttiri To aUeady more

‘•Be silent, be si

■rapossJbfe, perhaps nith h

aner ,e„ « '^"■

targ md of kvS!' H “h""” Was of two^^ arrived with a

“Sto ref^^'^ PMMdqaiot, ,PP^ , ho scene of Se
fern P=tenbn,g’£e°‘S,!f “f “e"' >”'»"■

£v' sty»^{Sn^.^^?fsSss

sp" " ‘^" " '"~£3; -

^ne most iinnortf,nf , . ^ °ot a word

s^iSa|-S'2Sir»'-« '

in frotJ?-^ ™Portant Tha ^ ^srribJe ouarrnT'"^ Ganya
"•ffc'e-.tad coffleTS'-?' had coL“S “ « ™et be

-™"ng. The „;;“PS.andhadbS,„"ri;<*. who M

time. aad that sbe\tr,.f^^ Md b2/ ■finyKiJJ ji

%W". as'Sb1;‘'»"o«ov„a ^ "■

^ZuutTy^^ot-soLris^^^^^ J -

and I don'f^ '^ouJd band^fh’ ' ' doubt

^■tbout it som^tri"^ f<^r I am

Sci w“S“ “f

, <■ hnvinE understood

out, and I Shan ^doKtrow SelhS ^

W dte sa» d »s.

first quite independen y tVtpr ” MysWdn

Vhink it over." 5„uy for your bralh ^ J

..yon ncod that nteans

observed, it Epancbin s eyes,

be dangerous in Madam i encouraged. you

certain hopes of nis ^ave “ amazement.

“How, what hopes? y impossible!

don’t think that Aglaia . • • minutes

Hyshldn did not sp^alr- •• Kolya become

■•You’re an awful sceph ^ P notldng, and are

r«rl -P-

MSuy'iS°la^''' H I joally don’t know for certatn

"1 believe you did, tho o ^^^ther

myself.” ^ , ^d sceptic ray^,®vr,ii’re not a sceptic,

“But I give up the wo Jdenly- ^9'^ Ganva over

orpSSatiol;’ Ko'yn ^

but you’re iealous. imiahing, as pet"

a certain pr°ad young and keg^ S ^^y^hed

Saying this, Kolya Seeing that de-

haps he had never laughed g.^,er He ^ Aglaia, but

all over, Holya laughed m«^.^ jealous ov^^ ^gafiy

lighted with the idea that y ^lat and amdously

ht ceased at once on obserjuj^^^ ^^^g,Uy an

wounded. After tha^ y , ^ morning in Peters-

for another hour or hour ^ a ^^g^g jpom g ^^^gr

Kext day Myshkin haa to sp^^ o dock ^

burg on urgent business. H P pavlovsk. hurriedly

noon when, on the 'vay ba^ The latter seized ^ drew

Epancbin at the railway stahon that they

by the arm. looked about bi^ as cornpaij^"^ e ^g dis-
lysmn after him i^to a with impahen

might travel together. He wa ^^d if

cuss something auportant. he ang^ should have

••To begin with dear prince, j^^^foeget it- . ^g^^ow Liza-
there’s been anything on my ^ didn t knm y

come to see you myseE yesterd y, ^ ^ _ H s simply a ^ ^^^^der

veta Prokofyevna v?ould^e i^ ^^^jgd there, an

home. . . . An inscrutable sphmxi

ao7

yoSrt tail of it fo

§^eat deal has any of’uV- fi? ®y think-

to be a philanthro^^llf Yo'u^ee^^n'’ a

fruits of it alreadv^ fro much so v ^^™oe, it’s nice

Z iTbXSdlS ■

vital ss ” v7ouf° s"- ■■'■■'

^t San intrigue an af+ ^^anderous ^nnth, "it'g
Saarreh Yo^^e f^^Pt to dest?oy^^°^^^^ It’s a plot

oadeistand? w ’^avgeny PalT’ hasn't

Word may be <ei;^ ' , ^a m not boim^ • "^aviovitch and ik

i: !!“ sieen 'af^

And if it can't,

?uTf tei

reeuJar'^^i^^^ shouted ‘Dpa^^^f mvention/ t 'frasn't know-

p3li^Slssa5S“s

she’c^ri-°^ ^t. Now she'is to her j ki remember,

dered in farf- tr^ , „

308 Ha talked alone

at any rate convince III i:- ^ Anktipd no bv tell-
ing him. mattered to who was chief of

^Xhis was wha^^^att^y pavlovitch s nnde.^w^uous position

i"S “IXat in Petcstaig. J" j^togcUu^r an oW

hal 1 *enow
fact -as f

Nastasya Fihp^he didn't see and . - •

him not long wealthy, ^ hut Yevgeny

pto Go “ ^ % ior Soney 1" J^dHl's ‘a^

that the formal teco
took place at las .

CHAPTER XII

11 v in the evening. Myshhin was getting ready
TP -was fo'^^^^^e'^park. All of a sudden Liraveta Prokofye^ma

walked alpoe dare to imagLnS," she began , "that

“To begin ^ 1 “’ our pidon. Nonsense! It was entirely your
I’ve come to oeg J'

^^Myshkin ^iJ"?aXOT not?"

* ‘Was it yo Youis, though ndther I nor you was mten-

" As tnach ^ day before

tionally to jg the conclusion that it’s not so*

yesterda^^^^ gg^yi Vety vrdl; listen and sit do'vn,

, Intend to stand. _ ffiiT

Idontinten

309

r " ‘'^ - »

Ppokofyevna’s » ° ° Show me d,,

ing With impatience. gJo'ved, she wac ni

'iism.yT''r“'.'"fe- Wyshkh

?m ’nVrsjr

rF?^3dt„£ tt- ;; e„-:

££f4oiXsr '«-• -

miil“e£',^°" litrSTcS Prohofyeviia I

4ip-s'ss5i&^3s^

hopes.? " ^ extraordfuaiy

Jts hard fa

310

"Hmt On purpose: I understand.” •

‘‘It’s very unpleasant for me to answer these questions, Liza-
vela Prokofyevna.”

‘‘I know it’s unpleasant, but it doesn’t matter to me in the
least whether it is unpleasant. Listen, tell me the truth as you
would before God. Are you telling me lies or not? ”

”I’m not.”

"Are you speaking tire truth saying tliat you are not in
love?”

”I beh'eve quite the truth.”

"Upon my word, ‘you believe’ I Did the urchin give it her? ”
"I askqd Nikolay Ardalionovitch. . .”

"The urchin ! the urchin ! ” Lizaveta Prokofyevna interrupted
vehemently. "I know nothing about any Nikolay Ardaliono-
vitch ! The urchin ! ' ’

"Nikolay Ardalionovitch ...”

"The urchin, I tell you I”

"No, not the urchin, but Nikolay Ardalionovitch,” Myshkin
answered at last, firmly though rather softly.

"Oh, very well, my dear, very well ! I shall keep that against
you," For a minute she overcome her emotion and was cahn,
"And what’s the meaning of the 'poor knight'?”

"I don't know at all; I had nothing to do with it. Some
joke.”

“Pleasant to hear it all at once! Only, could she have been
interested in you? Why, she has called you a freak and an
idiot.”

"You need not have told me that,” M3^hkin observed
reproachfully, tliough almost in a whisper,

"Don't be angry. She's a wilful, mad, spoilt girl — if she
cares for anyone she’ll be sure to rail at him aloud and abuse
him to his face; I was just such another. Only please don’t
be triumphant, my dear fellow, she’s not yours. I won't believe
that, and it never ivill bel I speak that you may take steps
now. Listen, swear you’re not married to that woman.”

"Lizaveta Prokofyevna, what are you saying? Upon my
%vord ! ” Myshkin almost jumped up in amazement,

"But you were almost manying her, weren’t you? ”

"I was almost marrying her,” M5^hkin whispered, and he
bowed his head,

"Well, are you in love with her, then? Have you come here
now on her account — ^for her sake?”

"I have not come to get married," answered Myshkin.

311

•>- ti... i. Z

« i^-vS'pS?^" BKtict rir-

P "M»te a Sj°?'r';. “ “"'“ ”« “

■.« “■“■S i^r y»u back aa „,v

aa'd al'±J= 7 »wn s,iS^ tS^^^y 4*3,?

JjF yon back ivkh ®‘'‘ "ns is Sbv r“'? °”'’ “«r-

HunseJf has sent you ? '""P^bence. f J been looking
one eke, except p ^s a friend an!t k ^at God

besides, ?hek a^?f'“!,®>'"^°bon4ranrf°?f*

^swer me simplv v a sheep^in ®be sgoneaway;

^.^bercaSfsl/^orno. Do yoK„^" u No^v’

. On mv ..JI day before '^’by 5/;e shnntpH

to-dW„^;;^‘ : f,-- -d tten you'^n^^,"

is S'!Sa?®^ “' "^'n- "»'

;;y?n mS" 'T^sSutTS- “*

Was in correspondence

■ •I didn't taotv nt IV

’'S?pn'^”S «>“ ry *'

“"Quite lately- H'lSf^efOTirltinE “'j “,'“‘itet somd re-
here all the winter. ghkin repeated ou\d certainly

-1 don't believe It. been so 1 snoui

flection and nn^siness. ^

have known it. . . t nf hiniseli an ^ cimoletonl

tt-r Jiy, wv enV V

:„li;ess.

nave a..v- ‘C-dtovceentcof Hmseli and;n^=^^^^

‘•I dare say he d lia a simpler a

«on on y"« Ute a - ■ ^ thaU-'a cheatiuE

“Fvervone Qiirelv vnn must sl

ashamed lo sometimes/'

you all round? deceive me^som I

^ "I know very ven ^ .^oice, ana

brought out broke off. the last straw 1

know It . . • on trusting him ' ina 5 no

1 ^ 0 . ntc to '‘Sc : r>'S” 5 ' «“'■•

"“StS"”’'.' „ It'ain.po-blelWlt>.t.l.atoMeot*"

letter f

^fyshkifl took a T»r»f

insfeScSf f„‘°j^™ |»y pS!' “n°peopley '> "»» "»

^‘i°SerC It *S P?»P;S"» ind S

f Ser fton S men. , 1 donl^^f/ “5, m are !

'^°"Jyou se^J P^J of nonsenS! Stin° foo."

'’”.»• 00. St a eff" '>' “■ ■

‘£^ yoo want me to i^^zaveS & •=°^this

cealf' ^?v.^ta]l. But b&°" ^ast?" ^^°^°fyevna!"

youS^^v^' JouS* ashamed”/ Th^ “‘f

“S ^ow." ^ of tSfv your

I hale yon if T.- . on]y tonient

^■“-'--y«nrna„e,

“- 0 ^"

apart from you!'"

314

*'^Vha-at? Who’s forbidden you?” She turned in a fla;
though pricked wth a needle. Myshkin hesitated to answi
felt he had made a senous slip.

"Who has forbidden you?” Lizaveta Prokofyevna
violently.

‘ 'Aglaia Ivanovna forbids . .

"When? Do spe-eak 111”

"She sent word tliis morning that I must never dare come and
see you again.”

Lizaveta Prokofyevna stood as though petrified, but she was
reflecting.

"What did she send? Whom did she send? By the urchin?
A verbal message 1” she exclaimed suddenly again.

"I had a note,” said Myshkin.

"Where? Give it here 1 At once 1”

Myshkin thought a minute, yet he pulled out of his waistcoat
pocket an untidy scrap of paper on which was written :

"Prince Lvov Nikolayevitch 1 — If, after all that's hap-
pened, you propose to astonish me by a visit to our villa, you
won’t, let me tell you, find me among those pleased to see you.

"AGI.AIA Epanchin.”

Lizaveta Prokofyevna reflected a minute; tlren she rushed at
Myshkin, seized him by the hand, and drew him after her.

"Come along! At once! It must be at once, this minute!”
she cried in an access of extraordinary excitement and impati-
ence.

"But you're exposing me to . .

"To what? You innocent ninny! You’re not like a manl
Well, now I shall see it all for myself, with my own eyes.”

"But you might let me take my hat, anyway. . . .”

"Here’s your horrid hatl Come along! Can’t even choose
his clothes with taste! . . . She wrote that . . . hm! after
what had happened . . . in a fever,” muttered Lizaveta Proko-
fyevna, dragging Myshkin along and not for one minute releas-
ing his hand. "I stood up for you Just now — said aloud you
were a fool not to come. . . . But for that, she wouldn't have
written such a senseless note! An improper note! Improper,
for a well-bred, well-brought-up, clever girl! Hml” she went
on: "Or ... or perhaps . . . perhaps she was vexed herself
at your not coming, only she didn’t consider that it wouldn’t
do to write like that to an idiot, because he’d take it literally,

315

he has done. Why are you listening?" she cried, flaring up,
realising that she had said too much. "She wants someone to
laugh at like you. It's long since she's seen such a one, that’s
why she’s asking you! And I'm glad, very glad, that she’fl
malce fun of you now — ^very glad; it’s just what you deserve.
And she knows how to do it. Oh, she knows howl . .

PART III

CHAPTER I

W E are constantly hearing complaints that there are no
practical people in Russia; that there are plenty of poli-
ticians, plenty of generals, that any number of business men of
all sorts can be found at a moment's notice,, but that there are
no practical men — at least, eveiyone is complaining of the lack
of tiiem. There are not even efficient railway servants, we hear,
on some of the lines; it’s not even possible to get a steamship
company decently managed. You hear of a railway collision or
of a bridge that breaks under a train on a newly-opened railway-
line. Or you hear of a train's wintering in a snowdrift; the
journey should have lasted a few hours and the train was snowed
up for five days. One hears of hundreds of tons of goods l)dng
rotting for two or three months at a time before they are dis-
patched. And I am told (though it is hardly credible) that a
merchant’s clerk who persisted in worrying for the dispatch of
his goods got a box on the ears from the superintendent, who
justified his display of efficiency on his part on the ground that
he lost his patience. There are so many government offices that
it staggers one to think of them; eveiyone has been in the service,
is in die service, or intends to be in the service — ^so that one
wonders how, with such an abundance of material, a decent
board of management cannot be made up to run a railway or
a line of steamers.

This question is often met by a very simple answer — so simple,
in fact, that the explanation seems hardly credible. It's true,
we are told, everyone has been or is in government service in
Russia, and this system has been going on for two hundred years
on the most approved German pattern from grandfather to
grandson — ^but officials are the most unpractical of people, and
things have come to such a pass that a purely theoretical char-
acter and lack of practical knowledge were only lately regarded,
even in official circles, as almost the highest qualification and
recommendation. But there's no need to discuss officials; we set
out to talk about practical men. There’s no doubt that diffidence
and complete lack of initiative have always been considered the
chief sign of a practical man, and indeed are so regarded still.
But why blame ourselves only — if this opinion is regarded as

317

accusation? From the beginning, all the world over, lack of
originality has been reckoned the chief characteristic and best
recommendation of an active, businesslike and practical man,
and at least niney-nine per cent of mankind— and that's a low

estimate ^have always held that opinion, and at most one per

cent looks at it differently.

■ Inventors and geniuses have almost always been looked on
as no better than fools at the beginning of their career, and very
frequently at the end of it also; this is the most hackneyed
observation, familiar to everyone. If, for instance, for scores of
years, everybody had been putting tlieir money into a bank and
millions had been invested in it at 4 per cent, and then the bank
ceased to exist and people were left to their own initiative, the
greater part of those millions would infallibly be lost in wild
speculation or in the hands of swindlers — and hi fact tliis is only
in accordance with the dictates of propriety and decorum. Yes,
decorum; if a proper diffidence and decorous lack of originality
have been universally accepted as tlie essential characteristics
of a practical man and a gentleman, a sudden transformation
would be quite ungentlemanly and almost indecent. What tender
and devoted mother wouldn’t be dismayed and ill with terror
at her son’s or daughter’s stepping one hair’s-breadth off the
beaten track. “No, better let him be happy and live in com-
fort without originality,’’ is what every mother thinks as she
rocks the cradle. And our nurses have from the earliest times
sung as they dandle their babies: "He shall dress in gold, the
pet — ^wear a general’s epaulette.’’ Thus even with our nurses
the rank of general has been considered the highest pinnacle
of Russian happiness, and so has been the most popular national
ideal of peaceful and contented bliss. And, indeed, after pass-
ing an examination without distinction and serving thirty-five
years, who can fail to become at last a general and to have
invested a decent sum in the bank? So that a Russian attains
the position of a practical and business man without the slightest
effort. The only person among us who can fail to reach the
general’s rank is the original man — in other words, the man who
won’t be quiet. Possibly there is some mistake about this; but,
speaking generally, this is true, and our sociefy has been per-
fectly correct in its definition of a practical man.

But much of this is sujrerfluous; I had intended simply to say
a few words of explanation about our friends the Epanchins.
That family, or at any rate the more reflective members of it,
suffered continually from a common family characteristic, the

utR

very opposite of the virtues we've been discussing a
Though they did not clearly understand the fact (for it id
cult to understand it), they yet sometimes suspected that d
thing in their family was unlike what is found in alli,^
families. In other families everything went smoothly, with them
it was all ups and downs; other people seemed to follow routine! —
they always seemed to be doing something exceptional. Other
people were alwa)^ decorously timid, but they were not. Liza-
veta Prokofyevna was, indeed, liable to alarms — ^too much so,
in fact; but it was not the decorous, worldly timidity for which
they longed. But perhaps it was only Lizaveta Prokofyevna
who was worried about it; the girls were too young, though they
were penetrating and ironical; and though the general pene-
trated (not without some strain, however), he never said any-
thing more than "Hm" in perplexing circumstances and put
all Ms trust in Ms wife. So the responsibility rested on her. It
was not that tMs family was distinguished by marked imtiative
or was drawn out of tlie common rut by any conscious inclina-
tion to\vards originality, which would have been a complete
breach of the proprieties. Oh no 1 There was really nothing of
the sort, that is, Mere was no conscious purpose in it, and yet,
in spite of all, the EpancMn family, though highly respectable,
was not quite what every respectable family ought to be. Of
late Lizaveta Prokofyevna had begun to blame herself alone
and her "unfortunate” character for this state of affairs, wMch
increased her distress. She was continually reproacMng herself
with being "a silly and eccentric old woman who didn’t know
how to behave”, and she worried over imaginary troubles, was
in a continual state of perplexity, was at a loss how to act in the
most ordinary contingencies, and always magnified every mis-
fortune.

At the beginning of our narrative we mentioned that the
Epanchin family enjoyed the sincere esteem of ah. Even
General EpancMn, although a man of obscure origin, was re-
ceived everywhere and treated with respect. He did, in fact,
deserve respect — ^in the first place, as a man of wealth and of
some standing, and secondly, as a very decent fellow, though by
no means of great intellect. But a certain dulMess of mind
seems an almost necessary qualification, if not for every public
man, at least for everyone seriously engaged in making money.
Finally, General Epanchin had good matmers, was modest, knew
how to hold Ms tongue, and yet would not allow Mmself to be
trampled upon, not simply because he was a g

3 ^

because he was an honest and honourable man. As for his
she was, as we have explained already, of good family, though
that is not a matter of great consideration among us, unless
there are powerful friends as well. But she had acquired a
circle of such friends; she was respected, and in the end loved
by persons of such consequence that it was natural that everj'-
one should follow their example in respecting and receiving her.
There could be no doubt that her anxieties about her family
were groundless; there was very little cause for them and they
were ridiculously exaggerated. But if you have a wart on the
forehead or on the nose, you always fancy that no one has any-
thing else to do in the world th^ stare at your wart, make
fun of it, and despise you for it, even though you have dis-
covered America. No doubt Lizaveta Prokofyevna was generally
considered "eccentric”, yet there could be no question about
her being esteemed; but she came at last to cease to believe in
that esteem, and the whole trouble lay in that. Looking at her
daughters, she was fretted by the suspicion that she ^vas con-
tinually ruining their prospects, that she was ridiculous, insup-
portable, and drd not know how to behave, for which, of course,
she was always blaming her daughters and her husband, and
quarrelling vith them all day long, though she loved them with
a self-sacrificing and almost passionate affection.

What worried her most of all was the suspicion that her
daughters were becoming just as eccentric as she was and that
girb in society were not and ought not to be like them, "They
are powing into nihilists, that’s what it comes to I” she repeated
to herself every minute. For the last year, and especially of late,
this melancholy notion had pown more and more fixed in her
mind. "To begin with, why don't they get married?” she kept
asking herself. "To torment their mother — tlrey make that the
object of their existence; and it all comes from these new ideas,
these cursed women's rights ! Didn’t Aglaia take it into her head
six months ago to cut off her-mapificent hair? (Heavens, even
I hadn’t hair like that when I was young!) She had the scissors
in her hand; I had to go dovro on my knees to her! . . . Well,
did it out of spite, no doubt, to torment her mother, for slie
is a. spiteful, self-willed, spoiled girl, and above all spiteful,
spiteful, spiteful 1 But didn’t that fat Alexandra mean to follow
her example and try to cut off her fleece, and not from spite,
not from caprice, but in all simplicity, like a fool, because Aglaia
persuaded her that without hair she would sleep better and be
free from headache? And the numbers and numbers of suitors

they have had in these last five years ! And there really were
nice men, first-rate men, among them 1 What are they waiting
for? Why don’t they get married? Simply to annoy their mother
— tlrerc’s no other reason for it, none whatever 1 "

At last the sun seemed to be dawning even for her maternal
heart; at least one daughter, at least Adelaida, would be settled.
"There’s one off our hands,” said Madame Epanchin, when she
had occaaon to refer to the event aloud (in her thoughts she
expressed herself %vith far greater tenderness). And how well,
how suitably, the whole thing had come about I Even in society,
it was talked of \vith respect. He was a distinguished man, a
prince, a man of fortune, and a nice man, and, what’s more,
it was a marriage of inclination. What could be better? But
she had always been less anxious about Adelaida tlian about
the other two, though her artistic proclivities sometimes gravely
troubled the mother’s apprehensive heart. "But she is of a
cheerful disposition and has plenty of sense, too — she's a girl
that will always fall on her legs,” was her consoling reflection.
She was more afraid for Aglaia than for any of them. About
the eldest girl, Alexandra, her mother could not make up her
mind whether to be afraid or not. Sometimes she fancied the
girl was "utterly hopeless”. "She is twenty-five, so she will
be an old maid; and witli her looks!” Lizaveta Prokofyevna
positively shed tears at night thinking of her, while Alexandra
herself lay sleeping tranquilly. "What is one to make of her?

Is she a nihilist or simply a fool?” That she was not a fool
even Lizaveta Prokofyevna had no doubt; she had the greatest
respect for Alexandra's judgment and was fond of asking her
advice. But that she was "a wet hen" she did not doubt for a
moment; "so calm that there's no making her out. Though
wet hens are not calm — foo, I am quite muddled over them!”

Lizaveta Prokofyevna had an inexplicable feeling of sympathy '
and commiseration for Alexandra — more, in fact, than for
Aglaia, whom she idolised. But the bitter sallies (in which her
maternal solicitude and sympathy chiefly showed themselves), her
taunts and names, such as "wet hen”, only amused Alexandra.

It came to such a pass that at times the most trivial matters
made Madame Epanchin dreadfully angry and drove her to per-
fect frenzy. Alexandra, for instance, was fond of sleeping late
and had a great many dreams; but her dreams were alwa}^
marked by an extraordinary ineptitude and innocence — ^they
might have been the dreams of a child of seven. And the very
innocence of her dreams became a source of irritation to her

32X

mother. Once Alexandra dreamed of nine hens, and it had been
the cause of a regular quarrel between her and her mother —
why it would be difficult to explain. Once, and once only, she
had succeeded in dreaming of something that might be called
original — she dreamed of a monk who was all alone in a dark
room into which she was afraid to go. The dream was at once
reported with triumph to their mother by her two laughing
sisters: but their mother was angry again and called them all
three a set of fools.

"Hml she is as calm as a fool and a regular wet hen; there's
no TOking her up; and yet she is sad, she looks quite sad some-
times ! What is she grieving over? A^at is it? " Sometimes she
put that question to her husband, and, as usual, she asked it
h 3 fsterically, threatening, expecting an immediate reply. Ivan
Fyodorovitch said "Hm”, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and
with a despairing gesture delivered himself of the dictum :

"She needs a husband."

"Only God grant her one unlike you, Ivan Fyodorovitch 1"
Lizaveta Prokofyevna burst out like a bomb at last, "unlike you
in his thoughts and judgments, Ivan Fyodorovitch. Not a
churlish churl like you, Ivan Fyodorovitch. . . ."

Ivan Fyodorovitch promptly made his escape and Lizaveta
Prokofyevna calmed down after her "e.xplosion". The same
evening, of course, she would invariably be particularly atten-
tive, gentle, affectionate to her husband, "the churlish churl",
Ivan Fyodorovitch, to her kind, dear and adored Ivan Fyodoro-
vitch, for she had been fond of him and even in love with him
all her life — a fact of which he was well aware himself, and he
had a boundless respect for her.

But her chief and continual anxiety was Aglaia.

"She is exactly, exactly like me, the very picture of me in
every respect ,” the mother used to say to herself. “Self-wiUed,
horrid little imp I Nihilist, eccentric, mad and spiteful, spite-
ful, spiteful! Good Lord, how unhappy she will be!”

But, as we have said already, a spell of sunshine had softened
and lighted up everything for a moment. For almost a whole
month Lizaveta Prokofyevna had a complete respite from her
amdeties. Adelaida’s approaching marriage made people in
society talk about Aglaia too, and Aglaia's manner had been
so good, so even, so clever, so enchanting: rather proud, but
that suited her so well 1 She had been so affectionate, so gradous
to her mother all that month 1 ("It's true it w'as necessary to
be verj', very careful about Yevgeny Pavlovitch, to get to the

322

bottom of him, and Aglaia doesn't seem to favour liim much
more than the rest.”) Anjnvay, she had suddenly become such
a delightful girl; and how handsome she wtis— mercy on us, how
handsome 1 She grew more beautiful day by day. And here . . .

And here tliis WTClchcd little prince, tliis miserable little idiot,
had hardly made his appearance and cvetythiiig w-as in a
turmoil again, cvcr>*thing in the house was topsy-turvy.

What had happened, tliough?

Notliing would have happened to other people, tliat was cer-
tain. But it was IJzavcta Prokofyevna's peculiarity that in the
combinations and concatenations of the most ordinary things she
managed to see, Uurough her ever-present anxiety, something
which alarmed her at times till it made her ill and irispircd in
her a terror absolutely c.xaggcratcd and inexplicable, and for
that reason all the harder to bear. What must have been her
feelings when sttdcicnly now, tlirough the tangle of absurd and
groundless worries, something actually became apparent that
really seemed imporiant — something liiat might in all serious-
ness call for anxiety, hesitation, and suspidoO !

"And the insolence of writing me tliat accursed anonymous
letter about that hussy', that slio is in communication with
Aglaia," Llravcta Prokofytvna was tivlnking ah the way home,
as she drew Myslikin along, and afterwards, as she made him sit
down at the round tabic about which all the family was
assembled. "How did they dare to think of such a thing I I
sliould die of shame if I believed a syllable of it, or if I were
to show Aglaia that letter. It's mailing a laughing-stock of us,
of tlie EpancliinsI And it's all Ivan Fyodorovitch's fault; it’s all
your fault, Ivan Fj'odorovitchl Ah, why didn't we spend the
summer at Yelagin Island? I said we ought to have gone to
Yelagin. It may be tliat horrid Vaiy'a wrote the letter, or per-
haps . . . it's all Ivan Fyodorovitch's fault, it’s all Ws fault 1
It’s for his benefit that hussy got this up, as a souvenir of tlieir
former relab'ons, to make him look a fool, just as she made fun
of liim as a fool before and led liim by the nose when he used
to be taking her pCiirls. . . . And yet the long and short of it is
that we all arc brought into it; your daughters arc brought into
it, Ivan Fyodorovitdi — young girls, young ladies, young ladies
moving in the best society, marriageable girls; they were there,
tlicy were standing by, tlicy heard it all, and they were dragged
into the scene with tliose nasty boys too. You may congrattilatc
yourself, they were there too and heard it! I won't forgive, I
won’t forgive, I’ll never forgive this WTctcbcd little prince!

HiBslSias

duced Sto runTH- showed

<"*si', ?sr "^stS.’v^.s.s r/?""

it’s a

originals th ^ ^ babblin/?? Tfc^ i^ ^ *3“^

• • • ‘hey ought to put I 3 We are a set of

^ tf^^hit us at twopence a !i ® t^ case— me

'C this. Ivan .‘^c.3 head. I chou

foB of hS a^d now? Shi ' ^nd why is

all eyes; she dopcn'^t^^® doesn’tl There .®hc’d make

there, yet she told >>• she doesn’t pn at him,

quite pale AnJ J‘"^ "Bt to come he ‘if "he stands

^itch. keeps d^e^S "°Btounded chatter^v V

“ “; “""■ “ ' -i"

--i <ab...

'•S* K “T1“ ■■' "S ' oh‘ t””?

''•atchingWn,“^?^^from which two dVi ^

delight teat hi f ^ ^he same time how h • '^cre intently
her famih-2 voS^^ S ?^°^hed wit^

what would shT^f 'fat she had wK f l‘.h^ ^ould hear
word yet. anri to hyjj ohiml Heavens.

^eiignt that he wal hme how hi! h/^ intently

her famihar voicSJf ^ them agaS ^hi^ f robbed with

what would shT^ f 'f ^t she had wK f l‘.h^ ^ould hear
word yet, and he licf^ to him now I Wp u °himl Heavens,

' of Yevgeny strained attP^«'^ ““ered one

?PPy and eSfed m ^r‘‘=h’ '^ho ha^mref f "™Biing
hut for a Ion- S ^ ‘hat evening “ ^uch f

E.cep.

324 ^°t yet returned

from Petersburg, all the family was assembled. Prince S. was
there too. They seemed to be meaning in a little time to go and
listen to the band before tea. The conversation had evidently
begun before Myslikin arrived. A little later Kolya made his
appearance on the veranda. "So he is received here as before,”
Wyshkin thought to himself.

The Epancliins’ villa was a luxurious one, built as a Swiss
chalet and was picturesquely covered with flowering creepers.
It was surrounded on all sides by a small but charming flower
garden. They all sat on the veranda as at Myshkin’s, only the
veranda vms rather wider and more sumptuous.

The subject of the conversation appeared to be to the taste of
few of the party. It had apparently arisen out of a heated argu-
ment, and no doubt everyone would have been glad to change
the subject. But Yevgeny Pavlovitch seemed to persist all the
more obstinately, regardless of the impression he was making;
Myshkin’s arrival seemed to make him even more eager. Liza-
veta Prokofyevna frowned, though she did not quite understand
it. Aglaia, who was sitting on one side, almost in a comer,
remained listening, obstinately silent.

"Allow me,” Yevgeny Pavlovitch was protesting warmly. "I
say nothing against Liberalism. Liberalism is not a sin; it is
an essential part of the whole, which without it would drop to
pieces or perish; Liberalism has just as much right to exist as
the most judicious Conservatism. But I am attacking Russian
Liberalism, and I repeat again I attack it just for the reason
that the Russian Liberal is not a Russian Liberal, but an un-
Russian Liberal. Show me a Russian Liberal and I’ll kiss him
in front of you all.”

"That is, if he cares to kiss you,” said Alexandra, who was
exceptionally excited, so much so that her cheeks were redder
than usual.

"There,” thought Lizaveta Prokofyevna to herself, "she goes
on sleeping and eating, and you can't rouse her, and then sud-
denly, once a year, she pops up and begins talking in such a way
that one can only gape at her.”

M5^hkin momentarily noticed that Alexandra seemed parricu-
larly to dislike Yevgeny Pavlovitch’s talking too light-heartedly:
he was talking about a serious subject, and seemed to be hot
about it, and at the same time he seemed to be making a joke
of it.

"I was maintaining just now, just before you came in,
prince,” Yevgeny Pavlovitch went on. "that Liberals so far have

325 r*

« “Ho™!, no

-"ESL''i!“£S™»

'.'But I d?dn^^ST^r^'°“''^‘-''f*" Prince ‘q K^^”'™'''''' -VO"
which you are Pussian Jandn«" warrnly,

I bSng to ft .'i rStSr

’ T ^ ”“”•

/?- 'S*5rS.'“ '’“’ ”»^% PoBono, i„ ,,„.

■■n,f» ;„, td“’i„“h'‘ '^'■S'" ••■Sfclft PPPhopa

Adotod.'T’^ii “1 »»= of Ihoso

: Quite so, but donv , Jundowners," said

£ iy «^ot .^'rs'-s^ Of OP k„ 3»-„

w4 or'd'o J“‘„J^°;”o rS ■ '’°™""'4 ttey

faotTowEd_inevit^n^'”S of Ws wlio says or

properly. Thar?”’'^ even ^

oof talJana of I,Wf . * f regard as a A JS ” ^e can't speak

p ^.0 ^ginning. WeU^ ^'?f'' we were taUrinV c""?

ussjan Sodah'st* fhnr ’ ^ rnuintain that xen u Socialists,
f our SocialiS’^,'^"; "°oo and SfeJ^on’t one single

^aya. ofeS!

326 ^ *^o their books.

show me their theories, their memoirs; and, though I am no
literary critic, I can 'write you the most convincing criticism/ in
which I’ll show you as clear as daylight that every page of their
books, pamphlets, and memoirs has been, ratten by Russian
landowners of the old school. Their anger, their indignation, tlieir
wit, are all typical of that class, as it was even in pre-Famusov’"
times; their raptures, their tears are perhaps real, genuine tears,
but they are landowners' tears — landotvnem' or divinity
students’. . . . You are laughing again, and you are laughing
too, prince? You don’t agree either, then?”

They really were all laughing, and Myshkin smiled too.

'T can't say off-hand yet whether I agree or not,” Mjshkin
brought out, suddenly leaving off smiling and starting with the
air of a schoolboy caught in a fault, "but I assure you I am
listening to you with the greatest pleasure. ...”

He was almost breathless, as he said this, and cold sweat came
out on his forehead. They were the first words be had uttered
since he had sat down. He tried to look round at the company
and had not the courage; Yevgeny Pavlovitch caught his move-
ment and smiled.

"I will tell you a fact, gentlemen,” he went on in the same
tone as before, that is, with extraordinary gusto and warmtlr,
though at the same time he seemed almost laughing, possibly
at his own words — "a fact, the observation and discovery of
which I have the honour of ascribing to myself and to mj^elf
alone; nothing has been said or written about it, an3^ay. ' This
fact expresses the whole essence of Russian Liberalism of the sort
of which I am speaking. In the first place, what is Liberalism,
speaking generally, but an attack (whether judicious or mistaken
is another question) on the established order of things? That’s
so, isn’t it? Well, my fact is that Russian Liberalism is not an
attack on the existing order of things, but is an attack on the
very essence of things, on the things themselves, not merely on
the order of things; not on the Russian rdgime, but on Russia
itself. My Liberal goes so far as to deny even Russia itself, that
is, he hates and beats his own mother. Every unhappy and
disastrous fact in Russia excites his laughter and almost his
delight. He hates the national habits, Russian history, every-
thing. If there is any justification for him, it is that he doesn’t
know what he is about and takes his hatred of Russia for
Liberalism of the most fruitful kind. (Oh, you often meet among
us Liberals who .are applauded by the rest and who are perhaps

• A oharaotor in Griboyedov’s “Woo from Wit’’. 1831.

327 ■

most absurd thf»

SS-awl ™“toc‘K

S ™ ">* ■SS^'®?£ & '?4 "f ™r i!K

but now they iiave ^ople ho7&^t^Ze°ouM

veiy idea of ‘bJin?“™f candid and fS jfeelf;

they have dism^S® ^ ““ntry; the vei?

« a fact; I insist onTtf « Wvial S “°“Pbon of it

sooner or later fn^ • • and ^ Pemicious. This

bas never been openly^ be told

We since has S'eSslld t ^

phenomenon and mlv n . and so it ,? o^her

^ a Liberal anyih,Je I admit ^4?. ^‘^“^enfal

we explain it amon^ bates his own , ^bere cannot
-Oat the Russian T'l^ ^hv, bv tho ‘-ountiy. How can

^^P^ains it, to m^^tl^ r®^^® bas not bee^Pu^'^-^ “ before,
p . J take all that vouL^ ^^ossian; nothing

P«ace S. reni;» J have said as a int.

p . ati that you hav hiussian; nothing

Pavloritt,"

3sSfrf=~aS-

g)u may be paSyVgh?"'^'’’ ^id ^Shki?' T^b Liberals
nL n ^e ^bat the ion of 'p, ^Ht I fancy that

of i ^ts instit^onc ^//^by is disposed tn h h-iberalism

'=^"aSSS2“ ? S' “meiS" si'* “»«<a»ent, he waa
that! i <^ven £s fftTh Jb®^ anyone asUd fWted him,

f3w.rTeV„S'^'‘''ia of SSf

fit/ -

\328

"So . . . how strange it is of you, though!” he said. "Did
you really answer me in earnest, prince?"

"Why, didn’t you ask me in earnest?" replied Myslikin in
surprise.

Everyone laughed.

“Trust him," said Adelaida. “Yevgeny Pavlovitch always
makes fun of everyone ! If you only knew what stories he tells
sometimes wth perfect seriousness!”

‘ T think this is a tedious conversation and there was no need
to have begun it,” Alexandra observed abruptly. "We meant
to go for a walk.”

“And let us go 1 It’s an exquisite evening,” cried Yevgeny
Pavlovitch. "But to show you that this time I was speaking
quite seriously, and still more to show the prince so (you have
interested me extremely, prince, and I assure you I am not quite
such a silly fellow as I must seem to j'ou — though I really am
a silly fellow!), and if you'U allow me, ladies and gentlemen,
I will ask the prince one last question to satisfy my own curiosity,
and then we wll leave off. This question occurred to me very
appropriately two hours ago. You see, prince, I sometimes think
of serious tilings too. I answered it, but let us see what the
prince will say. He spoke just now about an 'individual case’.
This phrase of ours is a very significant one; one often hears it.
Everyone has been talking and writing of late about that dreadful
murder of six persons by that . . . young man and of the strange
speech made by the counsel for the defence, in which it was
said that, considering the poverty of the criminal, it must have
been natural for him to think of murdering these six people.
Those are not precisely the words used, but the sense, I think,
is that or very much like it. It's my private opinion that the
lawyer who gave expression to this strange idea was under the
conviction that he was expressing the most liberal, the most
humane and progressive sentiment that could be uttered in our
day. Well, what do you make of it? Is this corruption of ideas
and convictions, is the possibility of such a distorted and e.xtra-
ordinary view an ‘individual case’ or a typical example?”

Everyone laughed again.

"Individual, of course individual,” laughed Alexandra and
Adelaida.

“And let me warn you again, Yevgeny Pavlovitch,” said
Prince S., "that your joke is growing very stale.”

“What do you think, prince?” Yevgeny Pavlovitch went on,
not listening, but catching Myshkin’s earnest and interested eyes

329

on Jiim "n,->

0^ t^'picaP j-ii S'^cm fo voii fn »

q«Bo„,.. o™ .1 «« on /» M

. individual," Mv.» t.- .

some veLSr^don^r''

'■llhoTgt

about once on "rrmn u

couid point to £0 man,^ ' n^ontbs ann- "'hat wc

neR;-estabL£l,ed ^^oiarJcable and that one

g®rSlSS

unrepentant murderer knows all the same Uiat ho is a 'criminal',
that is, he considers in his conscience Uiat he has acted wTongly,
even lliough he is unrepentant. And cverj-one of tliera sras Tike
tJiat; wMle those of whom Yevgeny Pavlovitch was speaking
refuse even to consider themselves as criminals and think that
they arc in the right and . . . tliat they have even acted w'cll —
it almost comes to tliat. Tliat’s, to my tliinking, where the
terrible difference lies. And observe, tliey are all young, that is,
they are all of Uic age in wliich one may most easily and help-
Icssiy fall under the influence of perverted idc.'is.”

Prince S. had ceased laughing and listened to Myslikin with a
puzzled air. Alexandra, who had been on lire point of saying
somctliing, held licr peace, as tliough some special thought made
her pause. Yevgeny Pavlovitch looked at Myshkin in genuine
surprise, with no tinge of mockery.

“But why arc you so surprised at Iviin, my good sir?" said
Lizaveta Prokofyevna, breaking in unexpectedly. “Why did
you think he was not so clever as you and could not reason as
well as you can?"

“No, I didn't mean tliat," said Yevgeny Pavlovitdi, "Only,
how is it, prince — excuse the question — if you see this so clearly,
how is it that you (excuse me again) did not notice die same
perversion of ideas and moral convictions in that strange ease
... tile other daj'. you know ... of Burdovsky's, w'asn't it?
It’s exactly tlie same. I fancied at tlie time that you didn't see
it at all?”

"But let me tell you, my dc<ar man," said Lizaveta Proko-
fyevna, getting hot, "we all noticed it. We sit here feeling
superior to him. But he got a letter from one of them to-day,
from tlie worst of the lot, the pimply one — do you remember,
Alexandra? He begs his pardon in the letter — ^in a fashion of
liis own, of course — and says he has broken wntli the companion
who egged him on at tlie lime — do you remember, Alexandra? —
and that he puts more faith now in tlie prince. But we haven't
had such a letter, though we know how to turn up our noses
at him.”

"And Ippolit has just moved to our villa, too,” cried Kolya.

"What? Is he there already?" said Myshkin, taken aback.

"He arrived just after you Iiad gone out with Lizaveta Proko-
fyevna. I brought him."

"Well, I’ll bet anything," Lizaveta Prokofyevna fired up
suddenly, quite forgetting that she had just been praising
Myslikin, "I’ll bet tliat he went last night to see him in his

33t

"Oh, for my part I for^ve him evei 3 rtliing, you can tell him
?o.’’

"That’s not the way to take it,” Myshkin answered softly
and, as it were, reluctantly, looking at one spot on the floor and
not raising his eyes. “You ought to be ready to receive his
forgiveness too.”

"How do I come in? What wrong have 1 done him?” ‘

"If you don't understand, then . . . But you do understand;
he wanted ... to bless you all tlicn and to receive your blessing,
that was all.”

"Dear prince," Prince S. hastened to interpose somewhat
apprehensively, exchanging glances with some of the others,
"it’s not easy to reach paradise on earth, but you reckon on
finding it; paradise it a difficult matter, prince, much more diffi-
cult than it seems to your good heart. We had better drop the
subject, or else "we may all feel uncomfortable too and tlien . . .”

"Let's go and hear the band," said Lizaveta Prokofyevna
sharply, getting up from her place angrily.

The others followed her example.

CHAPTER 11

A ll at once Myslikin went up to Yevgeny Pavlovitch.

"Yevgeny Pavlovitch,” he said with strange heat, seizing
his hand, "believe that I look upon you as the best and most
honourable of men in spite of everything. Be stu'c of that. ..."

Yevgeny Pavlovitch positively drew back a step rvith surprise.
For a moment he ^vas struggling with an irresistible desire to
laugh, but looking closer he saw that Mj'slikin seemed not liim- '
self, or at least was in a peculiar stale of mind.

"I don’t mind betting, prince,” he cried, "that you didn’t
mean to say that, nor perhaps to speak to me at all. But what’s
the matter with j’ou? Are you feeling ill?”

"That may be, that may well be. And you were very clever
to notice that perhaps it was not you I meant to address.”

He said this with a strange and even absurd smile; but, seem-
ing suddenly excited, he cried :

"Don’t remind me of my conduct three days ago! I’ve been
very much ashamed for the last three days. ... I knew that I
was to blame. ...”

"But . . . but what have you done so dreadful?”

"I see that you are perhaps more ashamed of me than anyone.

Yevgeny Pavlovitch. You are blushing; that’s the sign of a good
heart. I'm going away directly, you may be sure of that,"

"What’s die matter ivith him? Do his fits begin like this?”
Lizaveta Prokofyevna asked Kolya in alarm.

“Don't be uneasy, Lizaveta Prokofyevna. I’m not in a fit,
and I'm just going. I know that I am . . , afflicted. I’ve been
ill for twenty-four years, from my birth till I was twenty-four
years old. You must take what I say as from a sick man now.
I’m going directly — directly. You may be sure of that. I’m
not ashamed; for it would be strange to be ashamed of that,
wouldn’t it? But I’m out of place in society. . . I’m not
speaking from wounded vanity. . . . I've been reflecting during
these three days and I’ve made up my mind that I ought to
explain things sincerely and honourablj' to you at the first
opportunity. There are ideas, very great ideas, of which I ought
not to begin to speak, because I should be sure to make every-
one laugh. Prince S. has warned me of that very thing just
now. . . . My gestures are unsuitable. I’ve no right sense of
proportion. My words are incongruous, not befitting the subject,
and that’s a degradation for those ideas. And so I have no right.

. . . Besides, I’m morbidly sensitive. ... I am certain that
no one would hurt my feelings in this house, and that I am more
loved here than I deserve. But I know (I know for certain)
that twenty years’ illness must leave traces, so that it’s im-
possible not to laugh at me . . . sometimes. ... It is so,
isn’t it?”

He looked about him as though expecting an answer.

All were standing in painful perplexity at this unexpected,
morbid, and in any case apparently causeless, outbreak. But
this outbreak gave rise to a strange episode.

“But why are you saying that here?” cried Aglaia suddenly.

‘ ‘Why do you say it to them? Them I Them ! ”

She seemed to be stirred to the highest pitch of indignation.
Her eyes flashed fire. Myshkin stood facing her, dumb and
speechless, and he suddenly turned pale.

"There’s not one person here who is worth such words,”
Aglaia burst out. "There’s no one here, no one, who is worth
your little finger, nor your mind, nor your heart 1 You are more
honourable than any of them, nobler, better, kinder, cleverer than
dny of theml Some of them are not worthy to stoop to pick
up the handkerchief you have just dropped. . . . Why do you
humble yourself and put yourself below them? Why do you dis-
tort everything in yourself? Wfliy have you no pride?”

334

"Mercy on us I Who could have expected this?” cried
Lizaveta Prokofycvna, throwing up her hands.

“ ‘The poor knight.' Hurrah!" cried Kolya, enchanted.

"Be silent! . , . How dare they insult me in your house!”
cried Aglaia, suddenly flying out at her mother. She was by now
in tliat hysterical state when no line is drawn and no check re-
garded. “Why do you all torture me, every one of you? Why
have tliey been pestering me for the last three days on your
account, prince? Notliing will induce me to many you 1 Let me
tell you that I never will on any consideration. Understand that.
As though one could many an absurd creature lilce you | Look at
yourself in the looking-glass, what do you look like standing
there? Why, why do they tease me and say I’m going to marry
you? You ought to know that. You are in the plot with them
too!”

"No one has ever teased you about it,” muttered Adelaida in
alarm.

"No one has ever thought of such a thing. No one has said
a word about it!” cried Alexandra.

"Who has been teasing her? When has she been teased?
Who can have said such a thing? Is she raving?” Lizaveta
Prokofycvna addressed the room, quivering with anger.

"Evejyone has been talking about it eveiyone, for the last
three days! I will never, never marry him I ”

As she cried this, Aglaia burst into bitter tears, hiding her face
in her handkerchief, and sank into a chair.

“But he hasn’t even . .

"I haven't asked you, Aglaia Ivanovna,” broke suddenly
from Myshkin.

"Wha-a-t?” Lizaveta Prokofycvna brought out in indigna-
tion, amazement and horror. "What’s that?”

She could not believe her ears.

"I meant to say ... I meant to say,” faltered Myshkin, "I
only wanted to explain to Aglaia Ivanovna ... to have the
honour to make clear to her that I had no intention ... to
have the honour of asking for her hand ... at any time. It's
not my fault — it’s not my fault indeed, Aglaia Ivanovna. I’ve
never wanted to, it never entered my head. I never shall want
to, you’ll see that for yourself. Be sure of that. Some spiteful
person must have slandered me to you. Don't worry about it ! ”

As he said this, he went up to Aglaia.

She removed the handkerchief with which she was covering
her face, stole a hasty glance at his panic-stricken countenance,

335

took in the meaning of his words, and went off into a sudden fit
of laughter in his face, such gay and irresistible laughter, such
droll and. mocking laughter that Adelaida could mot contain her-
self, especially when she too looked at Myshkin. She rushed up
to her sister, embraced her, and broke into the same irresistible
school-girlish and merry laughter. Looking at them, Myshkin
too began to smile, and with a iojdul and happy expression
repeated ;

"Well, that’s all right! That’s all right!” -

At that point Alexandra too gave way and laughed heartily.
It seemed as though the three girls %vould never stop laughing.-

"Ah, the mad things!” muttered Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
"First they frighten one, and then ...”

But Prince S. was laugliing too, and so rvas Yevgeny Pavlo-
vitch, Kolya lauglicd without stopping, and Myshkin laughed
also, looking at them all.

"Let's go for a walk — let’s go for a walk!” cried Adelaida.
"All of us, and the prince must go with us. There's no need
for you to go away, you dear person. Isn’t he a dear, Aglaia?
Isn’t he, mother? What’s more, I must, I must kiss him and
embrace him for . . . for his explanation to Aglaia just now.
Uaman dear, will you let me kiss him? Aglaia, let me kiss your
prince," cried the mischievous girl; and she actually skipped up
to the prince and kissed him on the forehead.

He snatched her hands, squeezed them so tightly that
Adelaida almost cried out, looked at her with infinite glad-
ness, and quickly raised her hand to his lips and kissed it three
times.

"Come along!” Aglaia called to them. "Prince, you shall
escort me. May he, vtaman, after refusing me? You’ve refused
me for good, haven't you, prince? That’s not the w'ay to offer
your arm to a lady. Don’t you know how to give your arm to
a lady? That’s right. Come along, we’ll lead the way. Would
j'ou like us to go on ahead, lete-a~tele?”

She talked incessantly, still laughing spasmodically.

"Thank God — thank God!” repeated Lizaveta Prokofyevna,
though she did not know herself what she was rejoicing at.

"Extraordinarily queer people!” thought Prince S. perhaps
for the hundredth time since he had known tliem, but ... he
liked these queer people. As for Myshkin, he was perhaps not
greatly attracted by him, Prince S. looked rather gloomy and,
as it were, preoccupied, as they set off.

Yevgeny Pavlovitch seemed in the liveliest humour. All the

336

v,ay to the railway station^

Alexandra, trifle suspicious ^^rsiddenly b™}'®

that he began to be a thought l^ ^ explaining the

listening to bun at all. Though

violent and parfact^ B characteristic ot looking at

Tason. Hfe ““fr^Silariw Sent that «

the sisters tac^ t j ot them. It jgma to tliein.

Aoinia andMj^bki'T . complete enio Ti^aveta

reason, - , Q^t hilarious ^“-7-' eviot^u- ,

the sisters were 1 j. qJ them. :U pjgma to them

Aelaia and was a complete enio Lizaveta

younger sister s co about other _s ] hored her

Snee S. >''P‘^iSs to di=W«?“n”ieSj at random,
Prokofyevna, pe ^ compietcly dazi^. the end

?teUnSW“2;f?'i,t,o

-Look there, to ttie ng

MyshWn l^^ioiiy. Do you sec that seat th^P^^,.
tircre f that he did. sit here alone

at s° en^ o’clock the mormn^ ^ charming spot.

Syshkin murmured ^Jt ^ with me,

‘*And now yo^ f - Or, better, walk a * . ^ xnyself.

arm with you any ^ ^^oxd. I wan ° , ^1,1^ would not

shame.

» >» t”SvS Sdsland is more seW ^ a„ck

about the holidays, when "[^holiday atUre, are

than on Snnlays n ^ though no m^^ the band-

there from tm • correct ^ our park bands, an

SS.'‘'?bforiV>*Cefel«^

often plays, a®” P“'Jeis, though ftere iaajen ,,

STd a. .«a«s. d"“

'■‘"“‘‘a « n r” uL«.. .«a»-

ness, and even . ^ bandstand ^v.th seats tor

. At ^ wbioli adjotaB the pork,
to tha railway BtaW ^37

their acquaintances. Many do this with genuine pleasure and
frequent the gardens for that purpose alone. But there are some
who only go for the music. Unpleasant scenes are rare, though
of course Siey occasionally occur even on weekday. But that,
to be sure.-is inevitable.

It was an exquisite evening, and there were a good many
people in the gardens. All the places round the orchestra were
taken. Our party sat down on chairs rather apart, close to the
left-hand exit from the station. The crowd and the music revived
Lizaveta Prokofyevna a little and diverted the young ladies.
They had already exchanged glances with some of the visitors
and had already nodded affablj' to several of their acquaint-
ances; they had scrutinised the dresses, detected some eccentrici-
ties, and discussed them with sarcastic smiles. Yevgeny Pavlo-
vitch too bowed frequently to acquaintances. Aglaia and
Myshkin, who were still together, had already attracted some
attention. Soon several young men went up to the young ladies
and their mother; two or three remained to talk to them. They
were all friends of Yevgeny Pavlovitch’s. Among them was a
very handsome, good-humoured and talkative young officer. He
hastened to address Aglaia and did his utmost to engage her
attention. She was particularly gracious and sprightly with him.
Yevgeny Pavlovitch asked Myshkin to let 1^ introduce this
friend. Myshkin hardly took in what was wanted of him, but the
introduction took place, both bowed and shook hands. Yevgeny
Pavlovitch's friend asked a question, but Myshkin either did not
answer or mumbled something so strangely to himself that the
officer stared at him, then glanced at Yevgeny Pavlovitch, at
once saw why the introduction had been made, smiled sh'ghtly
and turned to Aglaia again. Only Yevgeny Pavlovitch noticed
that Aglaia suddenly flushed at this.

Myshkin did not even observe that other people were talking
and paying attention to Aglaia. He was perhaps at moments
even unconscious that he was sitting beside her. Sometimes he
longed to get away, to vanish from here altogether. He would
have been positively glad to be in some gloomy, deserted place,-
only that he might be alone with his thoughts and no one might
know where he was. Or at least to be at home in the veranda,
with no one else there, not Lebedyev nor the children; to throw
himself on the sofa and bury his head in the pillow, and to lie
like that for a day and a night and another day. At moments he
dreamed of the mountains, and especially one familiar spot
which he always liked to think of, a spot to which he had been

33S

douds one be too longl And

^nd a^ousand years °° must bcl U ^of f

whole h£e, and a , Q^^^n here. Oh, Hm, and if h

let him be utterly t 6 , they bad never same, dream

lave been better «;dee^" ^''^d wasn^ it f for five

had all been he began looking at A| look

and reality? Someb E be looking at her as at

S£?yS t “too Btn.n|=. He

an obSt a mile avmy . or as^aUi Lfter wth

'■Why are A°° niing her lively falk a though

him suddenly, ra c^P ^ of y > ^nd feel it

“ rrs p” * »»'

eotp-d to .e„ Sa°S

Mys^m seem ^rliaps he did not q laugh-

?0 teS 'rathtuily 1 . a TOon Ite ttot . . ■

'.'.Sod u° Ihe’^P* ^t'-

die utterly road! je^e ^ that abOTt the J ,.Sh,’s

‘'It's a good

mother remark had «heved her.^^^^^ d,

But her danghte the word immediately.

Mvshkm heard m idiot. He forgot tn could not

but not at ^IffS^feom where he fSpse of a fac^

Very likely it was only

I

an impression of a wry smile, the eyes, and the jaunty pale green
necktie of the apparition. Whether the figure had disappeared
in the crowd, or whether it had slipped into the station M}fshldn
could not decide.

But a minute later he began quickly and uneasily looking
about him; this first apparition might be the forerunner of a
second. That must certainly be so. Could he have forgotten
the possibility of a meeting when he went into the gardens?
It is true that when he went to the gardens he had no idea
that he was coming there — he was in such a troubled state of
mind.

If he had been more capable of observing, he might have
noticed for the last quarter of an hour that Aglaia too was look-
ing round uneasily from time to time; she too seemed to be on the
lookout for someone. Now, when his uneasiness had become very
marked, Aglaia’s excitement and uneasiness also increased, and
as soon as he looked round him, she at once looked about too.
The explanation of their uneasiness followed quickly.

Quite a number of persons, at least a dozen, suddenly appeared
from the side entrance, near which Myshkin and the Epanchins
and their friends were sitting. The foremost of the group were
three women, two of them remarkably good-looking; and it was
not strange that they were followed by so many admirers. But
there was something peculiar about the women and the men who
were with them, quite unlike the rest of the crowd gathered to
listen to the music. They were at once noticed by almost every-
one, but most people tried to look as though they had not seen
them at all, and only some of the young men smiled at thein,
whispering something to one another. It was impossible to avoid
seeing them : tliey displayed themselves conspicuously, talking
loudly and laughing. It might well have been thought that many
of them were drunk, though some of them were smartly and
fashionably dressed. Yet tliere were among them persons of very
strange appearance, in strange clothes, %vith strangely flushed
faces. There were some officers among them; some were not
young; some were solidly dressed in well-cut, comfortably fitting
clones, with rings and studs, and splendid pitch-black wi^ and
whiricers, with especially stately though rather grumpy dignity
in their faces, yet they would have been shunned in society like
the plague. Among our suburban places of resort there are, of
course, some distinguished for exceptional respectability and
enjoying a particularly good reputation. But even the most
cautious person may sometimes be struck by a tile from a neigh-

340

The group "but one a ini(i<i^*^'

hesitated whether ntured to follow like a gentle-

s:sr|f

most dubious i-dy. But going helher she were

SlSiSiiSlf^i

« _ ^ V

SSifSflS-S's-SSs

loving a woman more

lo sec htr i„

3 ^- ^e «s

f/and, tried to 4^1^ ‘ f °'”‘-'nt with a iLm f ° ^^ack eyes

«SSfR&"- . ""'* “CtX

'jl^B^y' P.°S!*“^"e 'i"» by He

“teresting. «« must Jiavp K ^ oa tellfnir

She i„S,Jy^°;,|:”b»ishcd 'b' ™r<t; "What

enough. cnecked hei^elf and m,vi „

Nastasva Ffi; ° ™°re, but that was

> notice
I seemed

if wys eoTOrf ™f-, "•'y «-yr»me“S”" ^blcs of go7^:
Ve^ you sjy fpiF°^°S there? You

ioticino\- hart could bpTirt^^t' ^^cre was

S his assailant fet of”« 3'*=^

Nastasya wfhout

swords fell on

rihnT^eS

£ tho EP=bcW“=^«' Mffvevg, '

outrageously scandalous ^ of itevgf

The officer, who "was a^ higfily

SaC iSS« ‘Srof w^y

SI“Sr, * «J,*£S;. »S w#'y SSng«i»*®"

and had been ^tr^e’s n^her^^y ^^pafently been

••One wants a wmp.^ (He hao

a hussy 1 ” he confidant in the pas ■) ^jer eyes

Yevgeny Pavloyitch s joi ^ ^rned to nu _

Filippovna instan y ^

a hussyl” he smd aimos^^^^^ pash)^

Yeveenv Pavlovitcl inctantlv turned —olete stranger,

nlstiya Pihppo^- r"m hers^^cbe^ a ^in

flashed. She rushed up t j f^in her,^ offender with

who was standing a eo p and moment.

another minute tje po^^^^d badly, if two steps away

Fifippovna would have 1 behind. Wrest-

L^^athand. Mysh^n^^o tmm b^^^^

ucceeded in seizing officer gave him a ^ a chair.

£k away his arms, the °™g^e%aces bach ^^tasya

:hest. Myshkin was j come the boxer, the

But two efber chan^iwa ^jeader and former y

Filippovna. Facing J^i^%Vown to tlie reade

author of the arhcle v,;mseF forcibly-

*D«r»r%»TVtin*s retinue. ._x— ^Anred. iuinse at vour

led Na-^lasya Filippovna away, he luad lime to laugh malignantly
in the onicer’s face, and with vulgar tritiinph said: "Whewl
He’s caught it! His mug’s all over blood 1 VVhcwl ”

Recovering himself and compictoli' realising w'th whom he
had to dtal, the ofheer (though covering lu's face with his liand-
kcrci’.itf) turned politely to Mj-shldn, who Jiad got up from his
chair.

"Prince My.riikin, whose acquaintance I have had the pleasure
of making just now?"

"She’s mad! She’s insanci I assure yon!" responded
Myshkin in a shaking voice, for some rc.i=on holding out his
trembling hands to lurn.

"1, of course, cannot boast of so much knowledge on tliat
subject. But I had to know your name.”

He nodded and walked away. The police hurried up five
seconds after tlic last of the persons concerned had disappmed.
But the scene Iiad not lasted more than two minutes. Some of
the audience had got up from their chairs and gone away; some
had simply moved from one place to another; while some were
delighted at the scene, and others were eagerly talking and in-
quiring about it. The incident, in fact, passed off in Uic usual
way. The band began plajdng again. Myslikin followed the
Epanchins. If he had thought, or had had’ time to look to the
left as he was sitting there, after he had been pushed away, be
might have seen, twenty paces from him, Aglaia, who had stood
still to watch tlie scandalous scene, regardless of her mother’s
and sisters’ calls to her. Pnnee S. had nin up to her and at last
persuaded her to come quickly away. Her mother remembered
that she had returned to them so excited lliat she could scarcely
have heard their calling her. But within two minutes, when they
were walking back into the park, Aglaia said in her usual care-
less and capricious tone :

"I wanted to see how the farce would end.”

CHAPTER III

T he scene in the gardens had impressed botli mother and
daughters almostwdth horror. Excited and alarmed, Lizaveta
Prokofyevna had literally almost run all the %vay home with her
daughters. According to her notions and ideas, so much had hap-
pened, and so much had been brought to light by tlie incident,
that certain ideas had taken definite shape in her brain, in spite

344

£isillfj:s2S»iSS'

that their sister put together. thought.

■motlict fnn seemed plunged home, nn^

Ks:r%=-s^S;5|*i-;«£

SS "ll rS" assented AdoMda- and Ae

"No doubt of tha , observed on the

mote. nratinnallV turned round

Wr^dlat." „„ ,ne

n|W bcaama a«cpt^»'f

Pavlovitch. Bu^" looking at t once there was a- ^

S2 and ^'^mpped Wm

SmfT. But apart from S.^s aim.

r.rpwing. „ took aimobi. x..

v»S“io"Sr™S.£d TnS |y

SSrSASanda.

on in the

befferto Sly ‘° ^”'«-

^d ready to o-^ seemed nM- ^ s^^ined so upset that ha

Wt be put.^FjSi^J^"g for then7xt^h.f

t>on reached him to time wherever he

had been sfec above ttn* unds of anxious convera

S,” ?i53S,?®' « ^eS™ £

jPparentlylid rather ^le si/oolS

again at once and jumped up

as though S^^dy she exa^ IS?: nde him, and he

after a^P"

,,r a Sdence, ~‘''"

, "fedi *”'• taow. . ,;■ ‘ " “■”'■■■ *

^y the way

"Bu^'i i, ' "ho . ^ ^ before. ” “at, what would you

"Yo'?°’‘ bt?"* ^ ven-’S”®? ™ ‘° “

^s awav Tf ®ot. A _?®a coward.?”

''°>m yS'^ doesl't

^ "^ament^’ E|hr‘ ^

"ThfM *3^^tions. away," rr ,

ahe obseiiyS ^ "'°®an noth' ^ laughed at last at

pretending. aWded^.'Jf rnaJce mp

“g- Tell Ole fK^°“ usually do' +^“t J'ou're W? away,”
so they ' fire at ” “’ake your?^^”^ at me and

. People^®”®* be killed or ? Paces, don't thS ®°® “terest-
,Z°t often ? ?fi?n killed ^^“^‘hnes at

^hat may 'vas killed ^ haagine.”

accidental.”

346

, duel to the death and he

• j *■ It V73S 3*

‘•It wasn’t an acci en . Dantes

waskiUed.’ so low aims like Jiat.

“Td

?eS S^»V'feo ■".^a“S?Se‘’/S-

^*Rllt EL 1 Vialf-W 3 LV"^P» ■, j rtY* ttlG chest,

Sit ‘hali-way-ap • 1 ,f distance.’ ’

•‘But can you shoots _

“I never how to load a pistol/ it

“Don’t you even know but 1 ve

“No. That IS, 1 for it ^vants pracUce.

that means you “nsl buy BJ^^/°b°ut fety

ListS and r^i^^'^^fSev^s^y^tmust not be

Vd^&;sS^^^^^ S s

“oS what nonseme Then tak« ^ Better

English. I’m ^°!?‘„Wefuls, perhaps, and s^ . uecessary
Pder, or two St (tt^'^y f ^ ^Sat^ss, or doors

nut plenty. Bam it ^ut of som poked the

for some reason), felt. Then, w ® afterwards, tlie

Sre sometimes covered ^ the bnU^ an , ^

W - y™ St lit a n..,.t.
ptptiS sfooW every day, a»

^iU you?” , Aglaia stamped h ^ conversation

Myshkin laughed. S earned on s put

The earnest air rather serious any-

somewhat surpn^^ ^ something’, had flmvn out

some;;^at surptif {hing’, sometl^^--^- ^ put

veranda at last. He was going out with a frowning, anxious
and resolute face.

"Ah, Lyov Nikolaycvitch, that's you. . . . "VVlicre arc you
going now?” he asked, though Myshkin showed no signs of
moving. "Come along. I've a word to say to you.”

"Good-bye,” said Aglaia, and held out her Ijand to Myslikin.

It was rather dark on the veranda by now. He could not
make out her face quite clearly. A minute later, when he had
left the villa wtli the general, he suddenly flushed hotly, and
squeezed his right hand tightly.

It appeared that Ivan Fyodorovitch had to go tlie same way.
In spite of the late hour, he was hurrying to discuss sometliing
with someone. But meanwhile, on the way, he began talk-
ing to Myshkin, quickly, c.Kcitcdly, and somewhat incoherently,
frequently mentioning Lizaveta Prokofyevna. If Myshkin could
have been more observant at that moment, he might perhaps
have guessed that the general wanted to find out something from
him, or rather, wanted to ask him a plain question, but could
not bring himself to the real point. Mj'shkin was so absent-
minded that at first he heard nothing at all, and when the
general stopped before him with some excited question, to his
shame he was forced to confess that he had not understood a
word.

The general shrugged his shoulders.

"You’re all such queer people all about one,” he began again.
"I tell you that I am at a loss to understand the notions and
alarms of Lizaveta Prokofyevna. She’s in hysterics, ciydng and
declaring that we've been disgraced, shamed. Who? How? By
whom? \\Tien and why? I confess I am to blame (I recognise
it), I’m very much to blame, but the persecutions of . . . this
troublesome woman (who’s misconducting herself into the
bargain) can be restrained, by the police at the worst, and I
intend to see someone to-day and tire steps. Ever3dhing can
be done quietly, gently, kindly even, in a friendly way and
without a breath of scandal. I admit that many things may
happen in the future, and that there’s a great deal that’s ^-
c.xplained; there’s an intrigue in it; but if they know nothing
about it here, they can make no explanation there. If I’ve heard
notliing and you've heard nothing, he’s heard nothing, and
she’s heard nothing, who has heard, I should like to ask you?
How is it to be explained, do you suppose, except that half
of it is mirage, unreal, something like moonshine or some
hallucination.”

^48

' "She is mac],*' miitterecl Mv’shkin, recalling wth pain tiic
recent scene.

"Tliat’s just what 1 say, if you're talking of her. That idea
has occurred to me too, and I slept peacefully. But now I see
that tlicir opinion is more correct, and I don't believe in mad-
ness. She's a nonsensical woman, I grant, but she’s artful as
well, and far from mad. Her freak to-day about Kapiton
Alc.'cej'itch shows that loo clearly. It'.s a fraudulent business,
or at least a Jesuitical business for objects of her own."

"XN'hat Kapiton Alcxciatch?”

"Ah, mercy on us, Lvov Nikolaycvitch, you don’t listen. I
began by telling you about K.apiton .Alc.vcyitch; I was so up-
set that I’m all of a tremble still. That’s what kept me so
long in toum to-day. Kapiton .'\le,veyitdi Radomsky, Yevgeny
Pavlovitch's uncle. ..."

"Ah I" cried Myshkin.

_ "Shot himself at daybreak this morning, at seven o’clock. A
highly-rcspcctcd old man, seventy, a free-liver. And it’s just
cxacUy as she .said— a large sum of government money
missing."

"Where could she have . .

"Heard of it? Ila-hal Why, she had a whole regiment
around her, as soon as she arrived here. You know what sort of
j^plc visit her now and seek ‘the honour of her acquaintance'.
She might naturally' have heard it tliis morning from someone
coming from town; for all Petersburg knows it by now*, and half
Pavlovsk, or perhaps the whole of it. But what a sly remark
it was she made about the uniform, as it was repeated to me,
about Yevgeny Pavlovitch’s having sent in his papeis in tlie nick
of time ! What a fiendish hint 1 No, that doesn't smack of mad-
ness. I refuse to believe, of course, tliat Yevgeny Pavlovitch
could have knowm of the catastrophe beforehand, that is, that
at seven o’clock on a certain day, and so on. But he may have
had a presentiment of it all. And I, and all of us, and Prince S.,
reckoned that he would leave him a fortune. It’s awful I Awful!
But understand me, I don’t charge Yevgeny Pavlovitch with
anyiliing, and I hasten to make tliat clear, but still, it's .
suspicious, I must say. Prince S. is tremendously struck by it.
It’s all fallen out so strangely.”

"But what is there suspicious about Yevgeny Pavlovitch's
conduct?”

"NoUiing. He’s behaved most honourably. I haven't sug-
gested anything of the sort. His own property, I believe, is un-

349

touched, Lizaveta Prokofycvna, of course, won't listen to an}'-
thing. But, what’s worse, all this family upset, or rather, all
this tittle-tattle, really one doesn’t know what to call it. . . .
You're a friend of the family in a real sense, Lvov Nikolaye-
vitch, and would you 'oelicve it, it appears now, though it’s not
known for certain, that Yevgeny Pavlovitch made Aglaia an
offer a month ago, and that she refused him point-blank.”

"Impossible 1” cried Myshkin wa^mlJ^

"Why, do you know anything about it? You see, my dear
fellow,” cried tire general, startled and surprised, stopping short
as though petrified, "I may have chattered on to you more than
I should. That’s because you . . . because you . . . are such
an exceptional fellow, one may say. Perhaps you know some-
thing?”

“I know nothing . . . about Yevgeny Pavlovitch,” muttered
Myslikin.

“1 don’t either. As for me, my boy, they certainly want to
see me dead and buried, and they won't consider how hard it is
for a man, and tliat I can't stand it. I've just been through an
awful scene 1 I speak to you as tlrough you were my son. The
worst of it is that Aglaia seems to be laughing at her mother.
Her sisters told thdr mother, as a guess, and a pretty certain
one, that she’d refused Yevgeny Pavlovitch and had a rather
formal explanation with him a month ago. But she’s such a
vdlful and whimsical creature, it’s beyond words. Generosity
and every brilliant quality of mind and heart she has, but
capricious, mocking — in fact, a little devil, and full of fancies,
too. She laughed at her mother to her face just now, at her
sisters too, and at Prince S. I don’t count, of course, for she
never docs anjdhing but laugh at me. But j'et, j'ou know, I
love her; I love her laughing even — and I believe she, little devil,
loves me specially for it, that is, more than an 3 'one else, I
believe. I’ll bet anything she’s made fim of you too. I found
her talking to you just now after the storm upstairs; she was sit-
ting with you, as though nothing had happened.”

Myshkin flushed crimson, and squeezed his right hand, but
said nothing.

“My dear, good Lyov Nikolaj'evitch,” the general began with
warmth and feeling again, "I . . , and Lizaveta Prokofyevna
too (though she’s begun to abuse you again, and me too, on
your account, though I don’t understand why), we love you, we
love you truly and respect j'ou, in spite of eveiydhing, I mean of
all appearances. But you’ll admit yourself, my dear boy, that

350

it is mystifj’ing and irritating to hear tliat cold-blooded little
devil suddenly (for she stood before her mother witli a look of
profound contempt for all our questions, mine especially, for,
confound it all, 1 was fool enough to take it into my head to
make a show of sternness, seeing I'm tire head of the family —
well, I made a fool of myself), that cold-blooded little devil
suddenly declare witli a laugh that that ‘mad woman’ (that
was her expression, and it strikes me as queer that she agrees
with you : 'How can you have failed to see it till now? ’ she says)
'has taken it into her head at all costs to many me to Prince
LyovCNikolaycvitch, and for that purpose to get Yevgeny
Pavlovitch turned out of our house.’ . , . She simply said that;
she gave no further explanation, she went on laughing and we
simply gaped at her; she slammed the door and went out. Then
they told me of what passed between her and you this afternoon.
And . . . and listen, dear prince, you’re a sensible man and
not given to taking offence. I've observed that about you,
but . . . don’t be angry: I’ll be bound she’s making fun of
you. She lauglis like a child, so don’t be angry with her, but
that's certainly it. Don’t Uiink anything of it — she's simply
making a fool of you and all of us, out for mischief. Well, good-
bye. You know our feelings, our genuine feelings for you, don't
you? They’ll never change in any respect . . . but now I must
go this 'ft'ay. Good-bye 1 I've not often been in such a tight hole
(what’s the expression?) as I am now. ... A pretty summer
holiday!”

Left alone at the cross-roads, Itlyshkin looked round him,
rapidly crossed the road, went close up to the lighted window
of a villa, unfolded the little piece of paper which he had held
tightly in his right hand all the time he had been talking to Ivan
Fyodorovitch, and by a faint beam of light, read :

"To-morrow morning at seven o’clock I will be on the green
seat in the park -waiting for you. I have made up my mind to
talk to you about an exceedingly important matter which con-
cerns you directly.

"PS. I hope you -will show no one this letter. Though I’m
ashamed to give you such a caution, I tliink that you deserve it,
and I %vrite it, blusliing with shame at your absurd character.

"PSS. I mean the green seat I pointed out to you this morn-
ing. You ought to be shamed that I should liave to waite this,
too.”

351

Jeanft-P^ cJenched Hphff almost liL ? veranda. Inir
thsS; butV^l^ Sdow f

standing so he raT^ ‘he Imht fn ' hast/Jj

?F^«o,s ^r ""

, y ^jd tte gentleman.

Id vnF^^'^hins'. iv'^'P^sed.

you wixijp ,, — ‘J-f course T — been watr^htr.

hind vnF\"^hin1': 0/ Prince". Fv/
prince, you^^ 'vere Tri'^fu ^ ^ouJdn’t Iq dor yo

even dead. dispose general An! ', ^ talked be

'•Oh need 2 ^;."" n^e. j ;; J am at yoim service,

any sacrifice,

^n affront° Th^.', ^°how Xhae r •

clined to Jnni,^*^ ^‘hes of us ,| P^^onaJly ^Jeutenanf.

an‘y on? as din’ -Rog^zw;'?^ accept
^e's b^Tn'^h^d upon. y^lPerhapf£5 and me, beisfii-

of his wiji caif'^^S about voh ^T^?ve to pay ^ 7°“ are
?0'v. If you ^ you toSmS^' J hear, aS?l?!,P'Peri prince.

^ m read/ the h^S?r : he r^v Hp a iriend
been loolrin^ /„ ^^STaded to th? ‘Choose mp°f ''^hng for you
,, ?» yo»i faS°“- p* e S' ™fa for^T '»r yfw secck

"”®iiel,fS'5>''«lj'. Kel|„ ' Bj-shJdn, (t

place." a man nfi ‘ne arms fh;

"W’s 2®5;' “ ">' chef .. . -

you Joiow I'v„ "a-ha / j , “gut, we y^-i, , ■* n beg hfe pardon
no?yA teller ‘aught ho^vF'v ‘o load a?v? ®boot, I
put fl, and notT' have? a pistol?^ r°^ “o'v- JOo

302 and not the bullet |

before the powder, or it won't go off. Do you hear, Keller? or
else it won’t go off. Ha-ha! Isn’t lliat a magnificent reason,
friend Keller? Ach, Keller, do you know I must hug you and
give you a kiss this minute! Ha-ha-ha! How was it &at you
turned up so suddenly this afternoon? Come and see me some
time soon and have some champagne. We’H all get drunk!
Do you know I’ve twelve bottles of champagne at home in
Lebedyev’s cellar? They came into his hands somehow and he
sold tliem to me the day before yesterday; tlie very day after I
moved into his house, I bought them all. I’ll get the whole
party together. Are you going to sleep to-night?”

"As I do every night, prince.”

"Well, pleasant dreams, tlien. Ha-ha!”

Myshkin crossed the road and vanished into the park, leaving
Keller somewhat perplexed. He had never yet seen Myshkin in
such a strange mood, and could not have imagined him like
this.

"Fever, perhaps, for he's a nervous man, and all this has
affected him; but yet he won’t be frightened. I am sure that sort
are not cowards, by Jove!” Keller was thinking to himself.
"Hm! champagne! an interesting fact, though ! Twelve bottles,
a dozen; a decent provision. I’ll bet tlrat Lebedyev got that
champagne as a pledge from someone. Hm ! he’s rather nice,
that prince; I like such fellows; there’s no time to lose though,
and . . . if there’s champagne, it’s the moment for it. ...”

That Myshkin was almost in a fever was, of course, a correct
surmise.

He wandered a long time about the dark park, and at last
"found himself” walking along an avenue. The impression was
left on his consciousness of having walked thirty or forty times
up and down that avenue from the seat to a tall and conspicuous
old tree, a distance of a hundred paces. He could not, if he had
tried, have remembered what he had been thinking all that
time, which must have been at least an hour. He caught himself,
however, thinking one thought which made him burst out
laughing; though there was nothing to laugh at, he kept wanting
to laugh. It occurred to him that the suggestion of a duel might
have arisen not only in Keller’s mind, and that, therefore, the
conversation about the loading of pistols was not without motive.

"Bah!” He stopped suddenly. Another idea dawned upon
him. "She came out on to the veranda just now when I was
sitting there in the comer, and was awfully surprised to find me
there and — ^how she laughed . . . she talked about tea; and

353

she had that note in her hands all the while, of course. So she
must have knowm I was sitting on the veranda. Why then was
she surprised ? Ha-ha 1 ' '

He took the letter out of his pocket and kissed it, but at once
stopped short and pondered.

“How strange it isl How strange it is!” he said, a minute
^ later, even wi& a certain sadness. On moments of intense joy
he always grew sad, he could not himself have said why. He
looked round attentively and was surprised that he had come
there. He ^vas very tired; he went to die seat and sat down on
it. There was an extraordinary stillness all round. The music
in the gardens had ceased, there was perhaps no one left in the
park. It must have been at least half-past eleven. It was a
soft, warm, clear night — a Petersburg night in early June, but
in the thick shady avenue where he was sitting it was almost
dark.

If anyone had told him at that moment that he had fallen
in love, tliat he was passionate!}' in love, he would have rejected
the idea with surprise and perhaps with indignation. And if
anyone had added that Aglaia’s letter was a love-letter, arrang-
ing a tryst with a lover, he would have been hotly ashamed of
such a man, and would perhaps have challenged him to a duel.
All this was perfectly sincere, and he never once doubted it, or
admitted the sh'ghtest “double” thought of a possibility of the
girl's loving him or even of his loving her. He would have
been ashamed of such an idea. The possibility of love for him,
"for such a man as he was”, he would have looked upon as a
monstrous thing. He fancied that, if it really meant anything, it
was only mischief on her part. But he was quite unconcerned by
that consideration, and thought it all in the natural order of
things. He was occupied and absorbed with something quite
different. He fully believed the statement dropped by the
excited general that she was making fun of everyone, and of
him, Myshkin, particularly. He did not feel in the least insulted
at ^s; to his thinking, it was quite as it should be. To him
&e chief thing was that to-morrow he would see her again early
in the morning, would sit beside her on the green seat, would
learn how to load a pistol, and would look at her. He wanted
nothing more. It did once or twice occur to him to wonder what
she_ meant to say to him, and what was tliis important matter
which concerned him so directly. Moreover, he never had a
moment’s doubt of the real existence of that "important
matter” for which he was summoned. But he was far from

334

considering that "important matter" now. He did not feel,
indeed, tlie slighest inclination to think about it.

The crunch of slow footsteps on the sand of the avenue made
him raise his head. 'A man whose face was difficult to distinguish
in the dark came up to the seat and sal down beside him.
Myshkin turned quickly, almost touching him, and discerned the
pale face of Rogozhin.

"I knew you were wandering about here somewhere. I
haven’t been long finding you," Rogozhin muttered tlirough liis
teeth.

It was the first time tliey had seen each other since their meet-
ing in the corridor of the hotel. Amazed at Rogozhin’s sudden
appearance, Myshkin could not for some time collect his
thoughts, and an agonising sensation rose up again in his heart.
Rogozhin saw the effect he had produced, but although he was
at first taken aback and talked with an air of studied ease,
Myshkin fancied soon that there was nothing studied about him,
nor even any special embarrassment. If there were any
awkwardness in his gestures and words, it was only on the sur-
face. The man could not change at heart.

"How did . . . you find me here?" asked Myshkin, in order
to say something.

"I heard from Keller (I was going to see you), ‘he’s gone
into the park,' he said. Well, thought I, so that's how it is."

‘^What is?” Myshkin anxiously caught up the phrase he had
dropped.

Rogozhin laughed but gave no explanation.

"I got your letter, Lvov Nikolayevitch. It’s all of no use . . .
and I wonder at you. But now I’ve come to you from her. She
bade me bring you without fail. She is very anxious to say
something to you. She wanted to see you to-day."

"I’ll go to-morrow. I’m going home directly. Are you . . .
coming to me?”

“Why should I? I’ve said all I had to say. Good-bye."

"Won’t you come?” Myshkin asked gently.

"You're a strange fellow, Lyov Nikolayevitch. One can’t
help wondering at you.”

Rogozhin laughed malignantly.

"Why so? Why are you so bitter against me now?" asked
Myshkin, sadly and warmly. "You know yourself now that all
you thought ^vas untrue. But yet I fancy that you are still
angry with me. And do you know wh}'? You’re still angry
because you attacked me. I tell yon I only remember lhat

355

Paifyon Rogozhin with whom I exchanged crosses that day. 1
wrote to you last night to forget all that madness and not to
speak of it again. Why do you turn away from me? Why do
3-ou hide 3mur hand? I tell you, 1 look upon all that happened
then simply as madness. I understand what you were feeling,
that day, as though it were myself. What you fancied did not
exist and could not exist. Why should there be anger betv;een
us?”

"As though you could feel anger!” Rogozhin laughed again,
in response to M3^hkin’s sudden and heated speech.

He had moved two steps away, and was actually standing with
his face averted from Myshkin and his hands hidden behind
liim.

"It’s not the thing for me to come and see you now, Lyov
Nikolayevitch,” he added, slowly and sententiously in conclu-
sion.

“You still hate me so? ”

"1 don’t like you, Lyov Nikolayevitch, so why should I come
and see you? Ah, prince, you’re like a child; you want a play-
thing and you must have it at once, but you don’t tmderstand
tilings. You are saying just what you ivrote in your letter. Do
you suppose I don’t beUeve you? I believe every word — you
never have deceived me, and never will in the future. But I
don't like you all the same. You wrote that you’ve forgotten
ever3rthing and 3’ou only remember the brother Rogozhin with
whom you exchanged crosses, and not that Rogozhin who raised
his knhe against 3'ou. But how do you know my feelings?”
(Rogozhin smiled again.) “WTiy, perbaps I’ve never once
repented of it, while you’ve already sent me 5mur brotherly for-
giveness, Perhaps I was already thinking of something else that
evening, but about that. ...”

“You had forgotten to think!” Myshkin put in. ”I should
think so 1 I bet that you went straight then to the train, and
flew off here to Pavlovsk, to the bandstand to follow her about
in the crowd and watch her as you did to-day. That doesn't
surprise me ! If you hadn’t been in such a state at that time,
that you could think of nothing else, perhaps you wouldn’t
have attacked me with the knife, I had a presentiment from
the first, looking at 3'ou; do you know what 3'ou were like then?
When we changed crosses, that idea may have been already at
the back of my mind. 'V^y did y’ou t^e me to your mother
then? Did you think to put a check on yourself by that? No,
you cannot have thought of it, but 3'ou felt it just as I did, . . .

35b

We were feeling just the same. If you nad not made that attack
(which God averted), what should I have been then? I did
ouspect you of it, our sin was the same, in fact. (Yes, don't
fro\vn. And why do you laugh?) You’ve ‘not repented’ 1
Perhaps even if you wanted to, you couldn’t regret it, because
you don’t like me, besides. And if I were like an innocent angel
to you, you'd still detest me so long as you tliinlc she loves me
and not you. That must be jealousy. But I've thought some-
thing about that this week, Parfyon, and I’ll tell it you. Do you
know that she may love you now more than anyone, and in
such a way that the more she torments you, the more she loves
you? She won’t tell you so, but you must know how to see
it. When all's said and done, why else is she going to marry
you? Some day she ^Yill tell you so herself. Some women want
to be loved like that, and that’s just her character. And your
love and your character must impress her! Do you know that
a woman is capable of torturing a man with her cruelty and
mockery -without the faintest twinge of conscience, because she'll
think every time she looks at jmu ; 'I’m tormenting him to death
now, but I'll make up for it with my love, later.' ”

Rogozhin laughed, as he listened to Myslikin.

"But I say, prince, have you come in lor the same treat-
ment? I’ve heard something of the sort about you, if it’s true.”

"What, what could you have heard?” Myslildn started, and
stopped in extreme confusion.

Rogozhin went on laughing. He had listened with curiosity
and perhaps with some pleasure to Myshkin, whose joyful and
impulsive warmth had greatly impressed and encouraged him.

"And I’ve not merely heard it; I see now it’s true,” he added.
"When have you talked like this before? I never heard you
say such things before. If I hadn’t heard something of the sort
about you, I shouldn’t have come here : to a park, too, and at
midnight.”

"I don't understand you at all, Parfyon Semyonitch.”

"She told me about it a long time ago, and I saw it for my-
self to-day as you sat listening to tire band this afternoon with
the young lady. She’s been vowing, she swore to me to-day and
yesterday, that you were head over ears in love with Aglaia
Epanchin. That’s nothing to me, prince, and it’s no business of
mine. If you have left off loving her, she still loves you. You
know that she's set on marrying you to her. She has sworn to
do it, ha-ha! She saj^ to me: 'tell tiiem I won’t marry you
\vithout that. When they've gone to church, we’ll go to church.’

357 M*

I caa't make out what it means, and I never have understood:
she either loves you beyond all reckoning, or ... if she does
love you, why does she want to many you to someone else?
She says: 'I want to see him happy,' so she must love
3 'ou.”

"I've told you and written to you that she's . . . out of her
mind,” said Myshkin, who had listened to Rogozhin with dis-
tress.

"The Lord knows 1 You may be mistaken. . . . But to-day
she fixed the wedding-day when I brought her home from the
gardens : in three weeks’ time or perhaps sooner, she said, we
will certainly be married; she swore it, and kissed the ikon. It
all rests ivith you now, it seems, prince. Ha-ha!”

"That’s all madness. \%at you’ve said about me will never
be! I’ll come and see you to-morrow.”

"How can you call her mad?” observed Rogozhin. “How
is it she seems sane to everyone else, and only mad to you?
How could she write letters to her? If she had been mad, they’d
have noticed it in her letters!”

"What letters?” asked Myshkin in alarm.

"Why to her, to the young lad}', and she reads them. Don't
you know? Well then, you'll find out. Of course she’ll show
you them herself.”

"I can’t believe that!” cried Myshkin.

"Ach! Lyov Nikolayewtch ! You’ve only gone a little way
along that path, as far as I can see. You’re only beginning.
Wait a bit : you’ll keep your own detectives yet and be on the
w'atch day and night too; and know of every step she takes, if
only . . .”

"Stop, and never speak of that again 1” cried Myshkin.
"Listen, Parfyon, just before 5 'ou appeared I came here and
suddenly began laughing — I don’t know what about. The only
reason was that I remembered it was my birthday to-morrow.
It seems to have come on purpose. It’s almost twelve o’clock.
Come, let us meet the day ! I’ve got some wane. Let’s drink
some. Wish for me what I don’t know how to wish for myself.
You wish it. and I’ll wash all happiness to you. If not, give
back the cross. You didn’t send the cross back to me next day!
You’ve got it on now, haven’t you?”

"Yes,” said Rogozhin.

"Well, then, come along. I don’t want to meet my new life
without you, for my new life has begun. You don’t know,
Parfyon, that my new life has begun to-day.”

358

"I see for myself now, and know that it has begun, and I’ll
tcll/«:rso. You’re not like yourself at all, LyovNikolayevitchl”

CHAPTER IV

A S ho drew near his villa Myslikin noticed with great surprise
that liis veranda was brightly lighted up, and that a large
and noisy company was assembled there. The party was a merry
one, laugiring and shouting; they seemed to be arguing at the
top of tlieir voices; the first glance suggested tliat they were
having an hilarious time. And when he mounted to the
veranda he found that in fact they had all been drinking, and
drinking cliampagne, and apparently had been drinking for
some time, so that many of the revellers had become very agree-
ably exhilarated by now. They were all people he knew, but it
was strange that they sliould all have come together at once, as
tliough by invitation, though Myshkin had not invited them, and
had only by chance recollected that it was his birthday.

"No doubt you told someone you'd uncork the champagne,
and so they've all run in," muttered Rogozhin, following
Myshkin to the veranda. "We know their ways. You’ve only
to whistle to them . . .’’ he added, almost angrily, doubtless
recalling his own recent past.

They all greeted MysWein Avith shouts and good wshes, and
surrounded liim. Some were very noisy, others much quieter,
but hearing that it was his birthday, all in turn hastened to con-
gratulate him. Myshkin was puzzled at the presence of some
persons, for instance, Burdovsky; but what was most surprising
was that Yevgeny Pavlovitch turned out to be among them.
Myshkin could scarcely believe his eyes, and was almost scared
at seeing him.

Lebedyev, flushed and almost ecstatic, ran up with explana-
tions; he was pretty far gone already. From his babble it
appeared that the party had come together quite naturall}', and
in fact by chance. First of all, towards the evening, Ippolit had
arrived, and feeling much better, had expressed the desire to
wait for Myslikin on the veranda. He had installed himself on
the sofa; then Lebedyev had gone down to join him and then
all his household — tliat is, his daughters and General Ivolgin.
Burdovsky had come with Ippolit, to bring him. Ganya and
Pdtsyn seemed to have called in later, as they passed by, at about

359

won't hurt hh^. had alip of7h„ • • •

They ve all been tvnV* ' a]on«- nn^

5^' ™-t i si?' “" ' “'7

“r^sra^f/o S^Ti^zzfs

Pfns s«m?s„ppj?“ ?'!“ ‘0 £ klfc «f ' *7

H» <>P»-m™,h”| toS?' *S‘ta?t S,S“'*"?'?«.e“'sb ..r
next room; but thp 7 sister was aci-o’ ^y®^anous to her
and lppohl^Jli^’^W L,bedyev’s^??/^^^^ a chest i?, the
ready to stand there £n°° face sh^

% 7 “°° ”'“'

to see jrou ait here T’v g^aeting the cnm

360 nimself how it was

„ -ind vet he had

, dviaR ^

tbfll he had V>ce».^‘f.fL ‘^uan that evening- that he

{cU better m f S. his cimir and mut^J
iurdovshy and that he ',v glad . - • ’

.•had only ^>tought IPPjl prc4d Mysbhin s

.•written noiuenbc tn i,c warmly prc-

moment. „,,ic " whispered ano . ^ other side.

recognised herd} he ashed Mj'sl’bm.

'•“S'SyoS '■■•»= "Wi-e-

■•Where to''’' rjritd Ml"’ '"iS’hiil'me »' “"''

He Sto’l 'S'.o >«

FSfiSSliP--*-- '

CO furious ,,

•"^■S?r3on■.ree» W ""'V ^

“Oi course it is
but these people . • •

"owhere el,; P-rty ^J^and

Moreover, though if- ™ “ excited that besides, I've

all the thing to puiJur “"‘^^"'‘^'onabJe^pSri^ r’‘

I have come to aslf ^ b'ke this I and not

perhaps noTa? ah^^"--that y?u L Pri"ee.

?|J^“fbed again. ^ unlucky.

orS?^^^-°boui;^

smile ’ ^ muttered Yev * Pay attention

»■« .0 „ ir" “ '=^-

“Thrvt yon too ■■•“■ ,,^,.-,1 oi it? t ^ u

,’ ' t ,,i Af^-i JVC sr.o ti VO tton't snind TiO" • . i

havcpl^nncdtot. ' . I jontc'.iO'.\ don convinces

yon liciicve it? ^ i,nktidi<l YeVR^'V

by r«dy,V>c-V;;;, Ui tn-y opn«ou . •

CUsti'-

,r>oUl b.ts cod’'^ ‘ ' . ■>.•

^Yts." r« ftirccUv. I itnnipnc?

“lie i'd't poioR to J- * U ^n honr with bvnt

“\Vby do yon • ,^ spon'bop bn • ^

"Oh. »«!«"l-- ' ■

"'-',rp« ■'■:f.:“A^y up t uii «nw..

lie unent-y ‘^td .ort strayed

mcnl 'vas .^’.mply "'’'rr-n iS Sddlc and did not

nrotest that O'* cn P f.mr)tv bcloie him ,int verV ohserv’ant.

“Why?

because yo^r ' Jind sit down T

recivoried tiicre’rt’l * J’^vc all comn P^ace

J'vc been People- for ^-night I'd

Ha-ha f But periian'; T i brotiefit von t ^

tiJJ daylight?'^ have brought fprecenT?^, ; ' ’

. -it s not two hoiircT ^ i -i-nt} Js p

health of the snnT! ‘ ‘be sun ric^ r-

^''YouV?^,ti^«eJbPt yi^ ^ Only you ought to keep

'vasTAvr'^o ^he'vSz^*®);?

«P and waving his'n!!l ^ dot" t f

S ‘‘SL"‘'™'»"o«S“'2g‘ '■■= “w to'sSi'®

"I hfSSd^d )'''!'■

ISl'SSr —
Es'2iE£s€sS€se-

•• pf. X, ^ “"disguised anH 7 u “ occasions

PM S‘fo”f>"ei.tl Ha!,,„,„„ c.„.

364 scneial as president.

,, .hoUlrf «<>"■“ “

for, else, anyone can c ^ •uo„ting you down,” cned

tat don’t ^;«SdVVo™»ooa'V asud some-

“What is 'the star th

haven't tl.e,B«B‘‘« ,,5™“ Sd'S^Sa^

returning wth K^d of all U^ese muttering

“I’m wonderfully touu course, ..I ^nmatience and

tions, P”"''^SyMgeting of. ^^f^'^Vdded, suddenly^

the vvay ttay,|Pf^<,Se vUconnt Bi«j”e S“„ppo„e„t who to*
Sid ? fr?e people, that’s Always been

B?- rSi't»n -vBony

"p”vr^UV „ oanya taSy-jLayT^a'Sttat

^‘\VhVi sav ^ _ -nWiruc that nas

evening, and m ^y- ^ course, with Lebeoy
Sl^til'toontaeottatW^

Tf SfanTSfnalUtie enfety -

centtiies peihap"? It's important to

**4rrvirS6Q» act.^

maintained wtb heat.

“•Don't be in 1 I

'"uch milder to u.

;>"«s=„d'dS;!to?s; '"r^"'wra vaS"''”*!,"'™

s r?- -miT

'^"^'versaj nr.< • * I venture

s and drinking

'™? '« «a'W i/“'”» “Scs of humSi

^.feStS'P °^?»S and d • i

«.attl“? i,-’;,^™ '°®' "'‘■' “ "■'«'>■ U"

took fe asked^him p wl O^'"^

of KolTrna^ ^gajn whpf^.lj^V'^wassfandfn/Tbe-

r _ ^ r V'as. and flTmn

nands Th^-'"- ^ =’Wer wafrl, C- it ^ac ^ j

3^rnis behind hie u stretched
366 and stared

mil a mimile later,

at the celling . tou ^ ystcning to the

-an idea express^" vnin ^^''’^^SvoSrscU aware ho'V

batUc— bntatnicid:' of rclf-

ofilccr (tbough not 'Mtho^ ^“',;"n arc equally strong

tnie -^„d profound ymn j scU-pteservadon arc over bunianity

destruction and the l ^.q„al doini jaugh?

in humanityl we know pof;. is a French

tiU the limit of time pjsbehcf ^ ^evil is? Do you

don*t believe iti ^ knovr name, yo^

idea 3- frivoloxis even knowing ^ ^ hoofs,

'““how <10 V™ SS'lauel'O'l'” ’“if r"fed"w approw’’:

:lS'Si-y co^SrrilSytm'Lv ^ Tofe.

■liSnl ?“r5Sad°<i '“\“Sfl£d to ata^e
f I.A&IL'’' Sfy^°Son o^ir-otvS’ldm
S“f<»“o irSyf.i"e i^SroScitejy,

triumph

I

sometimes, indeed, the more real it is tlie more improbable
it is."

"But could he cat sixty monks? " they asked, laughing round
him.

"He didn't cat them all at once, dial's evident. But if he
consumed them In tlie course of fifteen or twenty years, it is
perfectly comprehensible and natural. , . ."

"Natural?"

"Yes, natural," Lcbcdj'cv repeated, with pedantic persistence.
"Besides, a Catholic monk is, from his very nature, easily led
and inquisitive, and it wouldn’t be hard to lure him into tlie
forest, or to some hidden place, and there to deal widi him as
aforesaid. But I don’t deny that the number of persons
devoured seems e.xcessivc to the point of greediness."

"It may be true, gentlemen,’’ observed Myshkin suddenly.

Till then he had lislcncd in silence to the disputants and had
taken no part in tiic conversation; he had often joined heartily in
the general outbursts of laughter. He was evidently delighted
tliat ihoy ivcrc so gay and so noisy; even tiiat they were drink-
ing so much. He might perhaps not have uttered a word the
whole evening, but suddenly he seemed moved to speak. He
spoke with marked gravity, so that everyone turned to him at
once with interest.

"\Vhat I mean, gentlemen, is, tliat famines used to be
frequent. I have heard of that, though I know little historj'.
But I think they must have been. When 1 was among the
Swiss mountains I ivas surprised at the ruins of feudal castles,
built on the mountain-slopes or precipitous rocks at least half
a mile high (which means some miles of mountain path). You
know what a castle is : a perfect mountain of stones. They must
have meant an awful, incredible labour. And, of course, they
were all built by the poor people, the vassals. Besides which,
diey had to pay all the taxes and support the priesUiood. How
could they provide for themselves and till tlie land? Thej'^ must
have been few in number at that time; they died off terribly from
famine, and tliere may have been literally nothing to eat. I’ve
sometimes wondered, indeed, how it was that the people didn’t
become extinct allogetlicr; how it was that nothing happened
to them, and how they managed to endure it and survive. No
doubt Lebedyev is right in saying that tliere were cannibals, and
perhaps many of them; only I don't understand why he brought
monks into the stoiy, and wdiat he means by that.”

"Probably because in the twelfth century it was only the

369

p^gs of conscience are m ^rst Xuld need

S?nt be nnsu^c^^^b3fis, insufficient f for ^an^c
an infant IS too as many J ^ though less

tliree limes or fiv gfesiastic. ^„ther— not in quaWy.

Cafe.teXemem f o¥tiS. ^o^^e" derg?

was it urged ^^sixty and ke^P ^he s pem-

sr??hfn

S?s5>S%

tlian stake ^fhave been an idea stto^e^ v^hich man-

me ^ ^SSleW W.S^,S”,re

ways- -.i lL^vs. because I m_ ore anymmg

togeUier, uve such a loi^-^ - -- , Railways, dul .. --j

S4w me

Staiid kilvvays, Lether to-day ''^*^dl me that

Tny idea binding centuries- -^"f^Suddied beneath

ft? power it tod m *c5^,env,ealrened^^^^^ enmeshed.

is limp, and everyu

ids SSaiiSsp^Sf

t'veJffh -P^^ccii, and tos

« "o? 'f

^%Ozhin \vhn^f" ®“PPO=cd fn 1 ? ^O^Tl

Of gctw f’ad aho nf i on fhT fum. The-'
bowed^ slipp/nj ^ove% tcnn=

^oiiadnot dr ‘°o seem^T\^t thepoin

f^°“ghffuj ^ a drop 5^--^° forf;ouJ^°uS^^ W;

SSemS'-'S "ha«b hS"''"e- •..VwlS'v^

“"'J'UsbH.aS' X7°« a.n h.„ „, „ ”"* “'’ '“■’

, - “■“ w ..ed

”1 nave ^.,„u*c a rreav ueui i.^ — ^ ^

mat he is in your tlio g „ -nk about in my own

vitch, isn’t he? I’ve enough to think « get

b;ra™“'Lc^,;, dith bonder agdn.

Myshkin gazed atycvgciy

CHAPTER V

TPPOLIT. who had
I'L'ugh^om^cWc^to^^

a look of horror on his the

and rehccted. , , 35 it over? Is 't . Myshkin s

"Wliat, arc they GO'"6 ^ LhaPs tlie time?

sun risen?” he God's he added,

hand. “What’s tt^„%avc 1 b^n aslccP long ^
rve overslept my^ fj,, ^ though he had mis-

Y^la^’paStch-' icnccted lor somo moments.

Ippom lo*|d groc tbmP ftpogb cM&g oB

And he drew a last that notlnng ' ^ from tlie

Oll/i/

'>fy l» com^mcwed’” "''? “‘ite I wiir

Scc"4' S»S S4:»;’7r .f4o, ■

^^t tholT Gentle-

§s,L4'\»w“^»">’ “»• .D^“' •-■■

save the « I sorrv ^ just r>r>.. ^ove;

self.'* - ■t’^olj-a says tint ^ beauty nil/

^^vshkin In I you’re •> ^ zealous

""'hat SS ‘ so. *I fc ‘"’™P'lj'. ^ ■" '■“>• fond of

4“ *”<* W* ■'.“'■y cn'*’‘ “o n,c,'V‘’“>’'sloi<JayC’

^ ve Only f,,^. ^ J w ijajt , or to any nf , -^ afterwards
Prince. retnemhei\f^^^P- Whaf L" what

“I to

K« toS Wto|i; a

, rJSf a| ;{f^“;'->.a-S
^oS^uiSr^ t;S'^”toa7>.^—

?oS,“‘ Stv% ”“

inquisitive eyes and stareu uneasily.

it meant. -jo Mvshlein asked. ^ prince. 1 'V®

luisitive eyes and smm

-At to to' P''t|,°‘v™;haUseor' '"“iK bVeaW"8‘‘P“

distinction. ^ ^vas hembhng ah over^ answered for

Myslikin noticed n a tiling. thinks so? And

"None of ns , ^ou suppose thab ^3 What have you

all. ■'Andwhyshouldyousupp^^^^^dtousl

what . . . ^vhat a strang ^ere

there, Ipppht? << What’s happened to

"What 15 it? ♦•npatine. The envelope

asking on all hands. them still eating

All the party came np> like a niagne • promised I

would come to hve wiin gnished it^ bus

yesterday and ’ j had a drearn. , , tikin interposed

night, towards morning, i jnorrow?

"Wouldn’t it be better ^^^^tied

timidly. , be ‘no more rin > tt in f®^

all are; they ve all com f

hvthn — f^iore will i,„ ? ^‘^mcrnlv.r 1 . ‘’3’es. "/i

^nd ,^f>re tfrnr*'? pn)*

but wiih'^a looi Yev/’ '^PocaJjmse'o^ Prodaimed

1,-3 j. ^"ybig hjs hand on die

'it'S'u- -^."’agaafne “bscrv'cd sonl^ '

- .•..Tm„-.. o have intimidafed

' ..., .

-ir -o uioujh he had h Ipc

yiF^/'^you are " t u P“Ped^up -^.'.Pr^'^ “i'

The Idea orr.,^ ,^^bedvev . “P- Or any

mw. to hidlLfS*' “'". »l <mcto

Innolv f, ^ 6°"^ ou( of his

, J. read it I »- ,. she tossorf' -f^ ^bough she

^scision of Innnr#. “P

t?s£v"''"“" “' '■"' sf "^i "■'

"^^rted sudden y gr, ,

■^' 3iter half ^

376 ^ ®mufe's silence.

incredible brf.P „ mbsl'i”*' “ iwbn? &ets ?,lating to
SS r«V I believe ,on ® ba-ha! Ob. my

,,, elbov, or. tbM*. gj

clS^fd* £m«f«te''S

dS^™ibabob, ■■:

„:rjeip«d|io^

But they aU sat Sosvzl Vera cau^

reaUy did expect something i^ight. Y

father’s chair, and S had alreajiy ^

hardly less alarmed. L Ippolit to give ,, ■jppolit

and 4ved the candles directiy

"Gentlemen, this . • • Y suddenlY began « “ ^

added for some reason, an Apres atoi ^ -r^n

pvnlanationl Mono . scaldea

damn it!” he cried ont- ns stupid ’haps after all

1 shriously have v^en ^tl t^s ^g4 of

gentlemen! ... I assure y thougne ^ything

&e most fearful “ niysterions about ft . . ■ Y

If you think there’s anything my . ,_pted Ganya.

prohibited . . ^^^^^^'dt’^rithout a preface! mterrup

“If you’d only read i who had been

"It’s affectation!” sorneone a ^ ^ Rogozhm, who n

"There’s too much talK, P

silent till then. , ^ and wh , pronounced

Ippolit suddenly looked^ ^\rose grin, and slowly pro
Rogozhin gave a bitter ^ the

a strange senten^ this busines ,

"It’s not tlie way to sei
way. . . .”

377

I’ave cried out but thaf^-*° ^*^PPort him ^

Je could not

At Jast.S„^^ stared at minute

arbcuJated; for breath, S t’reathing pain-

^'as you “Dmense effort he

^ ma, „,3 ;,• it^was

"P »d s„.,en,;3^r21

/o« werein almost with fiuy, ‘

on the day J ha j room last week af r,-

was you." een to you in the m^orSp o'dod:

Week, at nityhi-:! t^onfess, i

r«Csr

n ense conviction. almost in a wh’

out on the ch^ yaffle to me and sit

re, Ixtween twelve the window f” ^°om with-

ih k n sudden fl u ^'^t it was

^ -P-

o' • Usto- . . .-■

The reading beean at lacf Ait ^ ^hJ. almost

■Mates, the iuflS-l,* S' Aftte begin.*. , '

•he aneatpected a,&S fcf

br^th, and read jerkily and incoherently; but as he went on his
voice grew stronger and began to express tlie sense of what he
was reading. But he was sometiines interrupted by a violent fit
of coughing; before he was half-way through the article, he was
very hoarse. His feverish excitement, which grew greater and
greater as he read, reached an intense pitch at last, and so did
the painful impression on his audience. Here is the whole
article;

"An Essential Explanation.”

"Apres moi le deluge!”

“The prince was here yesterday morning. Among other things
he persuaded me to move to his villa. I knew that he would in-
sist upon this, and felt sure that he would blurt straight out
that it would be 'easier to die among people and trees’, as he
expresses it. But to-day, he did not say ‘die' , but said 'it will
be easier to live’, which comes to much the same thing, how-
ever, in my position. I asked him what he meant by Ms ever-
lasting ‘trees’, and why he keeps pestering me with those ‘trees’,
and learnt to ray surpnse that I had myself said on that evening
that I'd came to Pavlorak to look at the trees for the last time.
When I told him I should die just the same, looking at trees, or
looldng out of my window at brick walls, and that there was no
need to make a fuss about a fortnight, he agreed at once; but the
greenness and the fresh air will be sure, according to him, to
produce a physical change in me, and my excitement and my
dreams will be affected and perhaps relieved. I told him again,
laugMng, that he spoke like a materialist. He answered with Ms
smSe that he had always been a materialist. As he never tells a
lie, that saying means sometMng. He has a nice smile; I have
examined him carefully now. I don't know whether I like Mm
or not; I haven’t time now to bother about it. Tlie hatred I have
felt for him for five months has begim to go off this last month,

I must observe. Wlio knows, maybe I came to Pavlovsk cMefly
to see Mm. But . . . why Md I leave my room then? A man
condemned to death ought not to leave Ms comer. And if I had
not now taken my final decision, but had intended to linger on
till the last minute, notMng would have induced me to leave my
room, and I should not have accepted Ms invitation to go to Mm,
to die in Pavlovsk. I must make haste and finish this 'explana-
tion’ before to-morrow, anyway. So I shan’t have tiiMe to read
it over and correct it. I sh^ read it over to-morrow, when I’m

379

Soing' to read it to ft

Whom r

wrong in writing, Uio^^. W'^en I?hSt r. on

® not Worth tcllinn r^' it was thp ‘U stover. I was

?5 sS>Ji;£S-S.? slirr"™

S~ sg^",£"Si

roust settle that qSStio? made on"""- verify

T c ^,^’^Jrove I have fm;? , ^^^routejy, or ck^ t” audience. I
I said, I've no timo^fn ^ w-ntten sometJiinrT i cannot act.)

ooiFco?hfr''°^ to correS'J^,^^' ^csidesf but as

wh^ regretting or feehn^^ "°"vicfion. tW "^rog my ro^'
iS° can St^yti^^^^S ab^ut h"/°^''&bt is not ^

u- *at my nature is com feeling' w . roasfered my

«ued KisJorodov; bv h;=

^tbeist, and a niliihsf Sat'?" k ^ studf

roan to tell me the naked ^ sent for v ^^tenaUst a*,

ado about it. And so he^dfo^ withouS?' ^ w-anfod a

any fuss, but with obviouSn-^'^i’ reidfo^ softening or
to my thinkfo'^) He blurt ^^^action (wfoch n ^ without

<;7?: P-rhK aMe it 1" 'Wab’^S f ‘“S

"M«. but I Sv die utud.'iotl'^' SS25£."S "aSl®'®

3S0 ^•^’on r

. suddenly, for instance, to-morrow. There are such cases. Only
tlie day before yesterday in Kolumna a young lady in consump-
tion, whose condition tos similar to mine, was just starting for
the market to buy provisions, when she suddenly felt ill, lay
down on the sofa, uttered a sigh and died. All this Ivislorodov
told me with a sort of jauntiness, carelessly and unfeelingly, as
though he were doing me an honour by it, that is, as though
showing me that he takes me, too, for the same sort of utterly
sceptical superior creature, as himself, who, of course, cares
nothing about dying. Anyway, the fact is autlienticated; a
month and no morel I am quite sure he’s not mistaken.

'T wondered very much how the prince guessed that I had
‘bad dreams’. He used those very words, that in Pavlovsk 'my
excitement and tfreams' would change. And why dreams? He’s
eitlier a doctor, or exceptionally intelligent, and able to see
things. (But that he is, iriter all said and done, an ‘idiot’ there
can be no doubt.) Just before he came in, I had. as though
purposely, a pretty dream (tliough, as a matter of fact, I have
hundreds of dreams like that, now.) I fell asleep — I beh'evo
about an hour before he came in — and dreamt that I was in a
room, but not my own. The room was larger and loftier than
mine, better furnished, and lighter. There was a w’ardrobe, a
chest of drawers, a sofa, and my bed, which was big and broad
and covered with a green silk-quilted counterpane. But in the
room I noticed an a'^1 animal, a sort of monster. It was like
a scorpion, but was not a scorpion, it was more disgusting, and
much more horrible, and it seemed it was so, just because there
was nothing like it in nature, and that it had come expressly to
me, and that there seemed to be something mysterious in that. I
examined it very carefully: it was brown, and was covered with
shell, a crawling reptile, seven inches long, two fingers thick at
the head, and tapering down to tlie tail, so that the point of the
tail was only about the sixth of an inch ^ck. Almost two inches
from the head, at an angle of fort^^-five degrees to the body, grew
two legs, one on each side, nearly four inches long, so ttat the
whole creature was in the shape of a trident, if looked at from
above.- I couldn’t make out tte head but I saw two whiskers,
short, and also brown, looking like two strong needles. There
were two whiskers of the same sort at the end of the tail, and at
the end of each of the legs, making eight whiskers in rJl. The
beast was running about the room, very quickly, on its legs and
its tail, and, when it ran, the body and legs wriggled like little
snakes, with extraordinary swiftness in spite of its shell, and ttiat

381 N

it would nif°''' ^“t as I near mv Vh

^ostatmv “f* iiie chaf^ ‘^“ried u^Th ^

saw thaf- ^ soitof c ‘ T kp_i\v^®Ped fiat

® S level 4?^“' «S'’"’S'“‘le I ■”e,

"Ith iis (aji my iiead and . ® Hie wall and ^ and

sr& s 2‘?£is».

?« nev5&!r«*

“»Sev5i’”“ Swrj"Cd" ‘^"■“ thTi " «'-”e7,

tlle^Sife® V ™shef if^.’g’- Wacfile'w^^fe

Si Sfett z Sr“‘«

cannxTS? f°^a's terror sometS ^at

omfnniTc thou^li fhp f °^gb there were cn ^tra-

V°o felt that ther?wr"‘^“& ^-
tshe mnird.,j T- , a was somofK

">Stt *«sh°”*

tag e’ Sly'S, ““/li Sa SeS '■" 'S

'aS a aSg"i“r‘“' S;

^t once atruppje J ^^'eature vdy, f ’ ™ade up her

Ct„» ‘a g»bbteTSS”S-.“<l t»5i ; «?™a cansi

382 ^ • ^^SandyelpSg

she opened her mouth from the pain, and I saw that the creature,
though bitten in two, tos still wriggling in her mouth, and was
emitting, from its crushed body, on to the dog's tongue, a
quantity of white fluid such as comes out of a squashed black-
beetle. . . . Then I waked up and the prince came in.

"Gentlemen,” said Ippolit, suddenly breaking off from his
reading, and seeming almost ashamed, "I haven't read this over,
but I believe I have really written a great deal that's superfluous.
That dream. . . .”

"That's true enough,” Ganya hastened to put in.

"There’s too much tliat’s personal in it, I must own, that is,
about myself. ...”

As he said this, Ippolit had a weary and exliausted air, and
wiped the sweat off his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Yes, you're too much interested in yourself,'' hissed
Lebedyev.

"I don't force anyone, let me say again,’ gentlemen. If any-
one doesn’t want to hear, he can go away.”

"He turns them out ... of another man’s house,” Rogozhin
grumbled, hardly audibly.

"And how if we all get up and go away?” said Ferdyshtchenko
suddenly. He had till then not ventured to speak aloud.

Ippolit dropped his eyes suddenly and clutched his manu-
script. But at the same second he raised his head again, and
with flashing eyes and two patches of red on liis cheeks, he said,
looking fixedly at Ferdyshtchenko ;

"You don't like me at all."'

There was laughter; most of the party did not laugh, however.
Ippolit flushed horribly.

"Ippolit,” said Myshkin, "fold up your manuscript and give
it to me, and go to bed here in my room. 'We'll talk before you
go to sleep, and to-morrow; but on condition that you never
open these pages. Will 5 ^ou ? ’ ’

"Is that possible?” Ippolit looked at him in positive amaze-
ment. "Gentlemen 1 ” he cried, growing feverishly excited again,
“this is a stupid episode, in which I haven’t known how to
behave. I won’t interrupt the reading again. If anyone wants
to listen, let liim.”

He took a hurried gulp of water from the glass, hurriedly put
his elbows on the table to shield his face from liieir eyes, and
went on, obstinately reading. But his shame soon passed off.

"The idea,” he went on, "that it’s not worth while to live a
few weeks began to come over me really, I fancy, a month ago,

383

have gone out like anyone else. I couldn’t endure the scurrying,
bustling people, everlastingly dreary, worried and preoccupied,
flitting to and fro about me on the pavement. \^Try their ever-
lasting gloom, uneasiness and bustle, their everlasting sullen
spite (for they are spiteful, spiteful, spiteful). Whose fault is
it that they are miserable and don’t know how to live, though
they've si.viy years of life before them? Why did Zamitz 3 m let
himself die of hunger when he had sixty years of life before
liim? And each one points to his rags, his toil-worn hands, and
cries savagely : 'We toil like cattle, we labour, we are poor and
hungry as dogs 1 Others don’t toil, and don’t labour, and they
are richl’ (The everlasting story!) Among them, running and
struggling from morning to night, is some miserable sniveller
like Ivan Fomitch Surikov, ‘a gentleman bom’ — he lives in our
block over my head — alwa37s out at elbows, with his buttons
dropping off, running errands, and taking messages for all sorts
of people from morning till night. Talk to him — he’s poor,
destitute, starving, his wife died, he couldn’t buy medicine for
her, his baby was frozen to death in the winter; his elder daughter
is a 'kept mistress’ . . . he's for ever whimpering and complain-
ing. Oh, I’ve never felt the least, the least pity for these fools,
and I don’t now — I say so with pride! Why isn’t he a Roths-
child? Whose fault is it that he hasn’t millions, like Rothschild,
that he hasn’t a heap of golden imperials and napoleon-d’ors, a
perfect mountain, as high as the mounds made in carnival week.
If he's alive he has cverytliing in his power! Whose fault is it
he doesn’t understand that?

"Oh, now I don’t care, now I’ve no time to be angry, but
then, then I repeat, I literally gnawed my pillow at night and
tore my quilt with rage. Oh, how I used to dream then, how I
longed to be turned out into the street at eighteen, almost with-
out clotliing, almost without covering, to be deserted and utterly
alone, without lodging, without work, without a crust of bread,
without relations, without one &iend in a great town, hungry,
beaten (so much the better) but healthy — and then I would show
them. ...

“What would I show?

“Oh, no doubt you think I don’t know how I've humiliated
myself as it is by my ‘Explanation’ 1 Oh, everyone of course
will look upon me as a sniveller who knows nothing of life, for-
getting that I’m not eighteen now, forgetting that to live as I
have lived for these six months means as much as living to grey
old age 1 But let them laugh and say that this is all fairy-tales.

385

in ioJd myself fn-

F»""/ ?5 an.

one of fhpm^^ ^°° iazilv tn^ apt to u-, ^ eveiyon

Of it

^SlDp <jAnf niv rrtt^ • * * P^OtcSf ^0J]6 j}Q,

®“re that ^^dorsfa^L^^' ash f},„^ to do wjth mv

:^<=rica h^^^ i^Pptess ti^ev aJif

fi’® Wghest m ' ^0” Was ”ot when h ' ^'0“ ®ay be
the discoiw o^o^^ont of hfc t i^ad discovered

Z- "'Stafo'J' “" WoSSS wS

^New World thnf to p, ’ "’i^an the before

k/'CoIunJbuf f ^^tterel were

«ho«' bj»%» io n , S’' “=

, Columbus

osual comxnonn.^ th^ft^ W at all and per-

schooTbo?^'^'^ «^at llif f'm saJn. ; ®4t what's^a
&■ « e?enn'-^“'"2 ^

r™ <”"'Sa';", '■'S'-'is,^ “■4ta"ss\

“"-Sitt '■‘‘"“"““S iLr 2

386 '°*'’"”»»n8%lJ4“

last six months, it ■will, anyway, be understood that I have paid
very dearly for attaining my present 'last conviction’. This is
what I felt necessary, for certain objects of my own, to put for-
ward in my 'Explanation'. However, I will continue."

CHAPTER VI

“T DON’T want to tell a lie; reality has caught me too on its
■*-hook in the course of these six months, and sometimes so
carried me away that I forgot my death sentence, or rather did
not care to think of it, and even did work. About my circum-
stances then, by the way. When eight months ago I became
very ill 1 broke off all my ties and gave up all who had been my
comrades. As I had always been a rather glum sort of person,
my comrades easily forgot me; of course, they’d have forgotten
me even apart from that circumstance. My surroundings at
home — that is, in my ‘family’ — ^were solitary too. Five months
ago I shut myself up once for all and cut myself off completely
from the rooms of the family. They alwa)^ obeyed me, and no
one dared to come in to me, except at a fixed time to tidy my
room and bring me my dinner. My mother obeyed me in fear
and trembling and did not even dare to whisper in my presence
when I made up my mind sometimes to let, her come to me. She
■was continually beating it into the children not to make a noise
and disturb me. I’ll own I often complained of their shouting;
they must be fond of me by now I I think I tormented ‘faithful
Kolya', as I called him, pretty thoroughly too. Latterly even
he’s worried me. All that is natural : men are created to torment
one another. But I noticed that he put up rvith my irritability
as though he had determined beforehand not to be hard on an
invalid. Naturally that irritated me; but I believe he had taken
it into his head to imitate the prince in 'Christian meekness’,
which was rather funny. He’s a boy, young and eager, and of
course imitates everything. But I have felt occasionally that
it was high time for him to take his own line. I'm very fond of
him. I tormented Surikov too, who lives above us and runs
errands from morning till night. I was continually proving to
him that he was to blame for his own poverty, so that he was
scared at last and gave up coming to see me. He’s a very meek
man, the meekest of beings. (N.B. They say meekness is a
tremendous power. I must ask the prince about that, it’s his
expression.) But in March, when I went upstairs to see ‘the

387

.. . . . in a wiisn^r door with

I went away anH r r, 'Go

even at tt.' ’ “^d I liked tfiaf ’

'™s whea K ”’“*■ fcd if „ a,

"SfSti “' s

ttS"

^.iai two or fh^ ^“ddenly fejf coni^^ anger Perhf''™^'^^

°« MsS.Ho'iT ““an in tte“£??' ”»■ iSSTv'*

stoD ao t ° d ’®' which ho o since then J , v ™

to, but “sedtodo bi^-Jff^

haps hSi° fash^ “confusion.

'^onJd have h ^ to ^e'.'f” t^iat^the^^^ extricate

3StS£;?:-'"«SS

?“•> betfen ?« lie widt <•■» time ftof Sn*-

suddenly f
i fortnight.

»Veui^"™an^ 'f

^■toe S.'I^PPcd up in distinctly^f “ toe dark

Jd^tasSy^ ^ort foS "’ore 2in?s^^^lng
sofflethinpr^i^^cd a street JpJr^' too thin for of an ugjy
^ o^» .out of his ton paces ah^ "

388 ^ dand and slipped

by. It Vi'as an old morocco pocket-book of old-fasliioned make,
stuffed full; but I guessed at the first glance that it might be
wth anytlung else but not with notes. The man who had lost
it was already forty paces ahead of me, and was soon lost to
sight in the crowd. I ran and began shouting after him, but
as I had nothing to shout but ‘Hi!’ he did not turn round.
Suddenly he whisked round to the left in at the gate of a house.
When I turned in at the gateway, which was very dark, there
was no one there. It ^vas a house of immense size — one of those
monsters built by speculators for low-class tenements, and some-
times containing as many as a hundred flats. When I ran in at
tlie gate, I fancied I saw a man in the fartliest right-hand comer
of the huge yard, though in the darkness I could scarcely dis-
tinguish liim. Running to that comer, I saw the entrance to
the stairs. The staircase was narrow, extremely dirty, and not
lighted up at all. But I heard a man still on the staiis above,
and I mounted the staircase, reckoning that while the door was
being opened to him, I should have time to overtake him. And
so I did. Each flight of stairs was short; they seemed endless in
number, so that I was fearfully out of breath, A door was
opened and shut on the fifth storey. I could make that out
%yhile I was three flights below. WhUe I ran up, while I was get-
ting my breath and feeling for the bell, sever^ minutes passed.
The door %vas opened at last by a peasant woman, who %vas
blowing up a samovar in a tiny Idtchcn. She heard my inquiries
in silence, not understanding a word I said, of course, and in
silence opened the door into the next room, which was also a
tiny and fearfully low-pitdied room, wretchedly furnished with
the barest esscnh'als. There was an immensely wide bed with
curtains in it, on which lay ‘Terentyitch’ (as the woman called
him), a man apparently dmnk. There was a candle-end burning
in an iron candlestick on the table, and there ^vas a bottle beside
it nearly empty. Terentyitch grunted something and waved
towards another door, while tlie woman went away; so there
was nothing for me to do but to open that door. I did so and
wnlked into the next room.

"The next room was even smaller and more cramped than the
other, so that 1 did not know which way to turn; the narrow
single bed in the comer took up a great deal of the space. The
rest of the furniture consisted of three plain chairs, heaped up
with rags of all sorts, and a cheap kitchen table in front of a
little old sofa covered with American leather, so that there was
scarcely room to pass between the table and tlie bed. On the

anyone’s coming to see them. But all at once he flew at me
almost with fury. I had not had time to mumble two words,
yet seeing I was decently dressed, he felt, I suppose, fearfullj'’
insulted at my daring to peep into his den so unceremoniously,
and to see the hideous surroundings of wliich he was so ashamed.
He was glad, no doubt, of an opportimity of venting on anyone
his rage at his own ill-luck. For one minute I even thought he
would attack me. He turned white as a woman in hysterics,
and alarmed his wfe dreadfully.

" 'How dare you come in like this? Get outl’ he shouted,
trembling and scarcely able to pronounce the words. But sud-
denly he saw his pocket-book in my hands.

“ ‘I believe you dropped this,’ I said as calmly and dryly as
I could (that was the best thing to do, in fact).

"He stood facing me in absolute terror, and for some time
seemed unable to take it in. Then he snatched at his side pocket,
opened his mouth in dismay, and clapped his hand to his fore-
head.

" ‘Good Godl Where, how did you find it?’

"I explained in the briefest words and, if possible, still more
dryly how I’d picked up the pocket-book, how I’d run after him,
calling, and how at last, on the chance and almost feeling my
way, I had followed him up the stairs.

" 'Oh heavens r he cried, turning to his wife, 'here are all
our papers, the last of my instruments — everything. . . . Oh,
my dear sir, do you know what you’ve done for me? I should
have been lostl’

"Meanwhile I had taken hold of tire door-handle to go out
without answering. But I was out of breath myself and my
excitement brought on such a violent fit of coughing that I could
scarcely stand. I saw the gentleman rushing from side to side
to find an empty chair, and finally snatching the rags off one, he
flung them on to the floor, and hurriedly handing it to me, care-
fully helped me to sit down. But my cough went on without
stopping for three minutes and more.

"When I recovered he was sitting beside me on another chair,
from which he had also flung the rags on to the floor, looking
intently at me.

" ‘You seem to be ill,' he said in the tone in which doctors
usually open proceedings with a patient. ‘I am a medical man
myself’ (he didn’t say ‘doctor’), and as he said it, something
made him point to the room, as though protesting against his
surroimdings. 'I see that you . . .’

391

“P“ “ I c«,y „ ^ ,,

ire _ . Ps y u are <^aggeratin^ and v

been so ovenyh * * ^ proper

JU Jumself top<.f^ °^^elmcd thaf

«Jojc fo

— » ^^Grpoced an • band.

IS settled.*' rae lal^”' bold

r ^'Su’ss •»

suffus<;d he? tlS iieT

sir of being horrih?^'^’f cheeks T ^at a red flush

“ 'If r • . be tf^ityd ^be

youT restlX’

®“st own hn ‘^°njplainhj„ h^™ ^nnth and wifi, -

His nfii against him i, Post bnf^^ been a

gove^g touched; he lo^f- bis wife

. „ iiparine; then he was

.e could gc. no

something by '^y ® ^dered him .^J5it five months,

Nvhat he had ^tten to post ^ rags were m

he had been dnvp ^js wife s last k .^^^day

“n?!l<(kru„" tm MS c4l“ir fuuS S*.

finished and stoodmp. ti of it :

• with timid cunosi^^ 1 smd. ^°°ovemor, the day

•• '1 have put dn^ro y oame of f^ooifellow called

the place where y ^ comrade. ^ Bahmutov, is an

ot the month, t , Pyotr Matvyeitcn

Bahmutov, and hi® u ’ director . • • . j mv doctor,

Sy depend ”P”"

almost trembling. ' successful con-

“^Lrytldug oboul 7,«S;ySpu6

dusiou. »ldch I «til%acUy «s .n a u^n „„ me;
fitted in “ S tty not

Door people that ^ xnvseU* (t ^ ^^00 and am not a

tiiat 1 wal a poor scbo°^^yd my studies long ag^ ^o know
my powerlessn^. ^f^^t it was ^ l -fygvsky Island to my

sdioolboy.) 1 at once to Va^^hat his uncle,

my name, but that log. j knew for a children,

sonalexpl^ataon Repeating once rnore

lat it would Uesu

that

come to see them _

™tty. He hadn??vf good-humoured good

2Yas always top of ft ^^-reachinp S-' ^omefames even

ta schooifeuX fS; ??“• I ™s iXe“f 'ff “• “o-fit be

Jnade overtures fn ° except me w ^ything. All
tomed awSfrtm h™" ^“”°g ^ several tines

seen him for a year-^ sullen ill-hurnonr a/ always
nine o'clock I wem’i^^?.^* the uniV?S ^ not

- >1*.-' - -Wd'S;? “--b ae. £ S

^ ^iiat posse<; 5 #ar? ♦, ° burst

^"es impuSenf"buT^“® ^oSnafomd ^"^ontyav?' he

exdaimed fo disSly «> “ocfo Vu?^,^ fo much in

could^ racked me L • '^1 J ’ ^ow s this? ' he

to you with a requ^t ' “ ^^osumption/ j

■tie sat down ■.»■„_ j .

^olo a chair and
I’ve come

said

‘Hn Tj request.'

stoiy of foe foSr'?nd I told hi

'■Vn'/^- “'ght“e aKfd that, ha^/4°foflV^"
undents ' ‘^orfoinly Hj}° J somethmg^ ““Auenceover

told it all so°Sr .“'^'^od I'm 7'^ attack my

to come to me?' ’ ’ ^"'^^tputitfotoyouSeaH

„. So much deoenrfc , ^ Terentyev

'I'll t^^PoIeon annnaT j enemy, i added

tlldoitl f'U .ii ..^PP^Sled to Fn„7„_^.. .

'"?,ie=^.‘ » br„S

■fJl Atfw?". '‘PP'aW fo Eoo, „,

arrs-HS^ ainoBg bs

"And indeed sb: ^''reSS Sp

in die i-nost successly province, and h gygpect that

appointed to a post a jjjpg j ‘ tor pretty often

irmoney. as well as ^j^^ing the doctor coolly

Bahmutov, who I'ad , received ^lad induced

(I purposely did not do o^ ^ t that ®ahniutov^a
Uen he came to see me)^I sns^ 1 s^v B ^ird

the doctor to accept a low^^^ ^.hmutov got "P ^

twice in die course doctor. B , ^ ^ the doctor’s

time when we saw ^ home to her

dinner with champa^ though she left early to g evening.

^vife too ivas P^f S^ng of May. was a un tov
baby. It was a the on tbe water- .

The huge ball of *0 su M&olaevsg^ B og

saw me home; we tov spohe of Ms del g ^^j^gthing,

boUi a little drunk. dedared that the

cessful conclusion of Ih ^ i^wtie^vrong in preach-

said how bappy be let ^ that people we^ i °^l
credit of it ^vas all nunc, a that

ing and maintaining, ^ ^ y ^t lonpn.B ^ f began, ‘attacks
leL was of no use. I ^^idual ebanty, 1 bej^; p^t the
" 'Anyone ^bo alta P^rf^bSm of individual
human nature and caste ^^d Me P^bl exclii-

organisaUon of P ^et questions, an<l tiecause it s an

, freedom are tivo ^ shne always r^aj^' lity to exert

sive. Individual MnOn jn^pulse of one p fellow at

individual l^P^^C’ ® another, ’^bwa ^ ^ coundllor, with

a direct influence upo^ ^ an actuE^l stare ^ ^

Moscow, a "General ^3 ^Sria S beforeh^d that

a German name. ^^tes to Sih Sparrow HiUs. He

prisoners; every P ^ visit them ^g^t earnestness and

L "old G^neml w '^th^g^g ,g,vs of prisoners

carried out this g p -walk tnr “...estioning each as to

devotion. eve.

who sunounded th^ ®y money, send them

his needs, calling ^sed to ^ garmente,

preaching to ^y ^ articlc^leg- PP r ^ .^^tion, which he

?he most nece^?^ ^bem books o^^v ^ t

a prisoner aoo

taowj all 0;,?,^° S' ‘■™ o( his d^S. S? P"»»<!ni a. fS

iiowj all oSLS' '“”' o' his deS, S' P"»"<!ns ffie S

'SsCri^^t^'^whS^aTaSd
.. p "S«aStfe‘‘ “«'■• ao“fc "““ •"“VkSS!

- >^*rwferJ

G Tr)rvT*a

S.SaSlS*' '9™i.taSli"S P»S°pS,“*-i part „;

3£S?-SiSS"»S3tr=

S'? P •Ks.TS-S-ie^^ »

liavp hotter. An^ ^ received tbemfr^ '^' Srow up

396 ’^°*’"q“eaththewoSf

somemigWy '4\;;t;ikrn^ otTof'rcpt'S^^^^^

'« 'Ami to thu* ^^nt, note ot rep

datlrl’ cried Bahmutov .

someone m his „c stauding

••M Uiat moment v.c^c I cnUl. bendmg

our elbows on just struck me? 1 ^

■• ‘And do yon know Bahmutov.

lower over the rail. jpto the .,,c in my iucc.

" 'Mot to throw vours . thoughts i . ivcre

ohno^Un alarm. only the^oUowui^^^^^^

- ‘Mo; lor the biue ^"8. to hvc. j«r y

I have only two or for in"^tancc, IcU, i

when I’ve only which requires a gr <t ^

anxious to do a good deecl^v^ ^ th U'c uo^^

activity and 'aoth^. ‘^''^^''fnorc within my means

to refuse It bccau^ I scale, an^ that s an

‘o H=

“"•S. Wunutov .juch w

having too ^ n«» nanu "“V'./Lp, came to cui***"^

remmd me ot.ucaui tairiy

--XT f

'trail

I didn’t sleep aU "’^bb ^"Shtened I b foPow-

“plerc m my

"That visit to Rogozhin exhausted me very much, and I had
felt very unwell all tliat morning. Towards the evening I was
very weak and lay down on my bed; from time to time I was in
a high fever, and even delirious. Kol 3 ra was \vith me till eleven
o'clock. I remember everything he talked of, however, and
everything we spoke about. But when at moments a mist
passed before my eyes 1 kept seeing Ivan Fomitch, who seemed
to be receiving millions of money and not to know where to
put it, to be worried about it, terrified that it would be stolen,
and at last he seemed to decide to bury it in the earth. Finally
I advised him, instead of digging such a mountain of gold into
the earth, to have the whole heap melted down into a golden
coffin for the frozen baby and to have tlic baby dug up for the
purpose. Tills sarcasm of mine seemed to be accepted b}' Surikov
with tears of gratitude, and he went at once to carry out the
plan, and I thought I left him with a curse.

"Kolya assured me, when I was quite myself again, that I
had not slept at all, but that I had been talking to him all the
time about Surikov. At moments I was in great misery and in
a state of collapse, so that Kolya was uneasy when he' left me.
When I got up myself to lock the door after him, I suddenly
recalled a picture I had seen at Rogozhin's, over the door of one
of the dreariest of his rooms. He showed it me himself in pas.s-
ing. I believe I stood before it for five minutes. There \ 7 as
nothing good about it from an artisUc point of view, but it pro-
duced a strange uneasiness in me.

"The picture represented Christ, who has only just been taken
from the cross. I believe artists usually paint Christ, both on
the cross and after He has been taken from the cross, still with
extraordinary beauty of face. They strive to preserve that
beauty even in His most terrible agonies. In Rogozhin's picture
there's no trace of beauty. It is in every detail tlic corpse of a
man who has endured infinite agony before tlic crucifi.xion; who
has been wounded, tortured, beaten by the guards and the
people when He carried the cross on His back and fell beneath
its weight, and after that has undergone the agony of crucifixion,
lasting for six hours at least (according to m 3 ' reckoning). It's
tnre it’s the face of a man only just taken from the cross — that
is to say, still bearing traces of warmth and life. Nothing is
rigid in it yet, so that there's srill a look of suffering in the face
ot the dead man, as though he were still feeling it (that has been
vcr 3 * well caught b 3 ’ tire artist). Yet the face has not been spared
in the least. It is .simply nature, and tlie corpse of a man, who-

399

slasKv whiter of fh 9Pen anw and

all His dS ®usThave 1 “estion aS® of

overrnm^^' oan thev and thi 7 ^“ostion in-

vanquisheH'''^^ oven did°'^^^'^°®o? How suture
in His iS; conquer tl,?° be
deadmScaS^fai-dsnarosef!^®’ '^^o^exclafc

ofnat^refc^'Jrth? Lookfc^f^s, comeS’,,
more coffeX® of an a picture ibe

strange ““oh more c^ttf "’er 5 iesrd.,mKl°"''®'>es

Tins picS fv^°^^^^forthe2lp^x '^boJe earth

“’ost au-fnT convictions T^ . ° crushed an *u “r con-

^ou^ht xvh- *^ouph earh^^*^ ^Ust havp ^opes,

Poacher oeter^? °oe bore wfS jf-^^od i/the

Would PTn bave seen Him .^"msted from >i' ^ nughtv

^‘iSit'’.” S““ »?to aff °“ " t*

^”“0 H = W ™;. “ OoS ™™ I *!.

400 anything that

has no shape apppr in a shape? But I seemed to fancy at
times that I saw in some strange, incredible form that infinite
Power, that dull, dark, dumb force. I remember that someone
seemed to lead mo by the hand, liolding a candle, to show me a
huge and loathsome spider, and to assure me, laughing at my
indignation, that this was lliat same dark, dumb and almighty
Power. There is alw’aj'S a little lamp lighted at night before
the ikon in my room. It is a dim and feeble light, yet one can
make out everything, and even read just under tlie lamp. I
believe it must have been after midnight, I had not slept at all
and lay with wide-open eyes. Suddenly my door opened and
Rogozhin walked in.

"He walked in, shut the door, looked at me without speaking,
and went quietly to the chair standing just under tlie lamp.
I wasawfullysurpriscd and looked at him in suspense. Rogozhin
put his elbows on tlie little table and began to stare at me TOth-
out speaking. So passed two or three minutes, and I remember
lus silence greatly offended and annoyed me. Why %TOuldn’t he
talk? His coming so late at night did strike me as strange, of
course, but I remember that I was not so tremendously taken
aback by it. Rather the oUter way, indeed; for though I had
not put my thought clearly into words in the morning, I know
he tmderstood it; and it was a thought that one might well come
to talk over once more, even at a veiy late hour. I took it for
granted he had come for that. Our parting in the morning had
been rather unfriendly, and I remember that he looked at me
once or twice vciy sarcastically. I saw tlie same sarcastic look
in his face now, and it was that which offended me. That it
actually was Rogozhin and not an apparition, an hallucination,

I had not tlie slightest doubt at tlie beginning, I never thought
of it, in fact.

"Meanwhile he went on sitting there and still staring at me
with the same sarcastic look. I turned angrily on my bed,
leaned with my elbow on tlie pillow, and made up my mind to
be 'silent too, even if we had to sit like that all the time. I was
set on his beginning first. I think twenty minutes must have
passed in that way. Suddenly tlie idea occurred to me; what
if it’s not Rogozhin, but only an apparition?

"I-'had never once seen an apparition, during my illness or
before it. But I had always felt as a boy, and now too — that
is, quite lately — ^that if I should ever see such a thing I should
die on the spot, although I don't believe in ghosts. Yet when the
idea struck me that it was not Rogozhin but only an apparition,

401

'Apparition as I <^cdde whethpr ^ nearly co

?oir.etiting'e]se affi I ^^Sozhin or an

^"Stance, 1 Se qua r ^ was nrSS o?

dressing-go^vn and stiS^ .^“gozhfn! wti7h
3- <3ress-coat a wfiif earL’er in thp ri^ been in his

struck me too- "'"‘^stcoat and a wS?"’ "°w wearing

why not J. : “ 't IS an ano:.Wf,- ° ^ "^ki‘e tie. Thp

. r don't rempmiT Whether it\„7

opened it, and’wem n°f ^^nost on "o longer

knn 7 ®ut I wakpi ^ ° ^ ^omember dfh» ^°°'^°ess knows
knocked at my doorfu''^^ ^onimg at ^ ^ ^ost con-
^°°\®yseJf before ten ^nged tliat tf '^ken they

®e, Matiyona shonW i °ck and caU fnr^/ ^ ^ open the

si'ssli-SLtfP'S

hvfng a but 'tedsi^' wa?L?’J°‘^--

Tha/a which was repuJsion ? ”°t logic, not a

r>rf •.*

Wien liltS ,2t '^kes ^e shaped ““‘fie ^ sub^

asitivasgett4°^-^P^der ^dit

402 ' had reached the

T f It better But tti3.t

6nd moment of M ige Ijieady”

'SS.'^n^S’hrveteplainedBofie.enUya.eady

CHAPTER VII

T ,„nc nuite a childf

“T HAD a little pocket-pistol; I got ^ p j^^d at the stoiy ol^

I afS absurd age .“to^^ling how one^J.

duel or of an attack y gravely one would ^ the

challenged to a duel and ot

S wh^mT,ri%rr S'“ohSg.s“

&TdSrr Oft, if

fifteen paces. But, o temple. . ^ , t ^neant to go

one put it right agains at sunnse, 'Ex-

' "I decided to die at ^ anyone m p^e Lovers

into the park, so as not ^ p to P^gonie to get

planation’ will „one^else who likes, are pianuscript

2h‘r»fm?ve anoto » Mefical Aead^uy,

For^Se'^good of saence. to judge ^^T^Uong

‘‘rdo^’t admit ^ of aU judgment. ^ hot

that I am now beyo^ ^ imagining— once, or to do
ago I ^vas much rnpone a dozen people a ^

d&y took me to to" S™ cinsidered die m°stjf^

'-IS lohat Jme'SeSn'St my 3" J^rc^^oml%is

do

.oufcbkut.s

the world-what a p^ic^ twa, comfortably m

my having only a “^n _ j should che co

mrat and torture me an attenhve docto^.

^ «roT7Yl 9.nd SUvl^r r^«*/»Vvlp 'tVliH 1 _ 1 _, nf n

^k^r-Wh more snug ^^ 0 ! S'eS ol a

thatV idea do^n t smke pej ^^^^ty of peop

joke. But judge me,

joke, even among u. the nght T p^^e, no

voice to aeieiivk j

sf<«i s “v^S”Sj

.-l am obliged, forcpri^j ^ ^^len. evp,^r ■ it? What

“ the sunlight beside°m eveiy second

the chorus'. JnowsTfa^„,“®' its sbZTil lu ^y ^y> buzzing

eJebrated classical

Ah, puissetii ^ soit Al^wric.

T«/ d-«»is J “ 2%«. ?“» "“^

instead of these '.«™P^2ted°»^*S‘* *S*^''?°‘

tains so ^^^nffeiSmcss- anj

levelling in ''■^y?®;, ^ maUce for tears o _

muddled and took th ashesl Le ^>5 ovm

in that faith; peace he J? /^nsciousness of on^ ® ^ and beyond

,^hehegns.of« ^a „,p„„ aeeep

ll"rtcl °° , ^ ndtni... ajd f.e«s

ha;rkur'f^Ss’”'^""5?s?^

unjust.^* Say wJia( yo„ .

"And ye(, in .r „ ^Po^iblc and

'nosl'^likely I wuJd never

cnit and even impo Jhil , ^a'ra. But i/n ■

rcsponsibJc for no^ Snl surelv

It's (rue, they (elj ^on^paCd ‘

°“t rwisoning, simply from tliat one^iK^oT^^^

if i.

tl>e wills and JaSL^f ^r being inaThT^''"'^-

on one side. ' ^ ^ovjdencei’ Mq weM k ^ “^'Icfsland

„ "^nd IV. s./d “ '''""'■ '«»'o „iij,o"“

tile sun will n^ j ''Y^ugn, indeed un,-. »

Steft I’l staffc "'\!’> pS «S? bf,sf »S Al sty^'

Ss £'dlXT|-4» S'?S„'-sr- ”pon'?dS!

f "’“tiny ^ ""'nbered^ iS to die,

equal W ‘E-^P'anaUon'; T . . .

strength, anTfr^l‘^2yf‘’“ 'vceks^”%,f"‘ ^aose ^ ^ "ot
tlie recognition of iht ^ ^ should be have the

poet, and I do not ’"o- “°“8b by

temptation too IvL such concnirT^P^ I m not a French
weeks’ sentence so limited mv'.";- there’s

406 ^^tennmation to fling

A an cpttle any difficultiK

rxwAs; s %srs-

unnatural tenaon This eig^te^^y®f{g^torn from

had reached that ^gak as a treniblmg ^e

haustedby illness, J the first time “ the most

a tree. But as soon ^non his audience,

last hour— he t and resLtful «pugnan« ^th j^g

STnoiSy and angly ?e«;^g> £)isof *ess^“t

S- of ^0 ^Lifron.

press it. , ^s though he had be

Suddenly Ippoht leap-, p. cpeing tlie tree-

his seat. . ,, . gjied to Myshlnn, marvel.

••The sun has .^Jd to them as though to

tops lighted up. and P ^,e?>’ observed

••It has risen! . gn’t gomg to ns .

••Why, did you think

Ferdyshtchenko. . day,” mutter y ^is

■•It iviU be baking hot again, a ^ yawning./ith his bar ^

careless annoyance strec ^ ^^^^th of this droug

hands. •‘What if ther „rnached stupe-

\ve going or bot, ^t^^ astonishment ^Lan trembling

Ippolit listened ^^^ffearfully pale and begai
faction. He suddenly turned lean

all over. . jg^ce very awkw^dly

"You act your wdifferen.e ^
he said, staring at ^anya- m let obK^lf g®^ ,

"Well, that’s beyond phenomenal feeblene=s

roared Ferdyshtchenko.^ Ganya.

“He’s simply a fool, .^^gj ^ httle. __i-Ung as before,

Ippolit pulled himself toget^^ began, trembU g

n TOdLtad. gentlem®. to may

md stuttering at evety , gorry I

clV.LU^^ w

tell me?’

...... .

.Good night, prince " c dis^

piSf £*« «S3i

Shooi X -fe “' ^pAt

He Won't shnnrK-®“'^J What, he^'d

muttered sevS ®^?^°“ about?"

at 4e

at Ippoht’s arm '‘n^, , ‘^^ad KoJva

®^eyou thinking of? at him^ too, caught

Ve,. . ,' • A«

;& & L“S'-« 01 jS: B„rd...

?fod, thouah he. ' • • the nVht .. _

mur.^ right -^ardov.

General S)fgj°°ri^self|

aplomb. ned unexpectedly, S fooling j‘"

,, ^fa VO, general I" pprH i, aidignation and

L . J.-know' he wnn't J^^^-yshtehenkn , .

,.f-.- f-enu,.. p.., “S

Listen, I say, ifr ' n^^ter general

-g out ^ kan^'SpJ S^^av." aaiJ

a mean tV..>i , .. ^ou mean skeleton ,r.

;“s 'Jut ms har
-I believe you
Jeave it to the ^

bones. . . y' SKeJeton, youj

V. .ad. ^ F%«^a^s^dd»„.,

^ Academy.?^ of your ct -

an, isn’t if?" ^ “ ^^an your oS L^®I®^on and
’Ones. . . ," sxeJeton, your

right then. I .

But Ippolit

but the lour standing abou chould hold his

was a sound of If after, that they should

.o shoot

“If you really 0^*^, -.>, “after such 9 P .„ fpncp them-

...s^S —

"So you flunk fey ^ery temper . • •

quite the contrary', _f ^ lose yo

self. The great tiling j^tjqnising { mistake in reading

Yevgeny Pavlovitcli in P ^ade a at Yevgeny Pavlo-

^To?ly see “ifSUdV'-'irSh *“»

them my Explanab . ^j^lness, as .what

vitch with a su j^jend. I really don’t fow

fidential advice of ^ but • • pavlovitch, smihng.

“It’s an absurd j Yevgeny ^a did no

,„ £4e y««;" “trr

Ippolit bent a supposed tna

answer. It _ qf doing <50

at some moment^ strung ^ park,’ f ^^^4 up.

- 3 ?. shoot “ „„ao;, tot te Jto t tjp;

as not to ^

set^yone ^ Myshkin. _ pbedvev interrupted,

^ “Gentlemen ••• honoured Pffh ftet it’^not a pke, and

“Mo allo'i^ ’ pan see for yourself that and are

furiously. least are of ^ feel boimd m

as half tfter wliat he ^^J^^the house, and as a

convinced himself, 1 , ns ?»

honour to f „ ^-qn you to assf m ^y to assist yon-

*SSaohoplh^ors»ah;^“^^y A,. „,,,« in to

A

- kJS- <- oir

Sv for

--ai ■ioiiowed T„i ; *•“• i craysii

'^Ss;f SsScS* s.":

PereST"."' you ev,r
"Dfw ' ^”®'^ored Alvchi^- -iPPoIit whis-

'Wy' mXr y®"--*? Tk: ''’"'J'yon
A' &' ?5;' ■ : ". /?; fc' K-'yM. ".'X?

irJ,„_ T^.“OWyou. P„f „„

aj !#s;:

‘tafs >“^^s *a, J: ‘° b„.

e^ '“■ "’™ i®£Se »>-«d
•fea- Vo„.„ »-»d „a, spared

“an.aule.i„s,«^«gm.k. _

dio * ^ a minute,"

Suddenly he put his aims round Myshkin.

‘ ‘You think I am mad perhaps? ” He looked at him strangely,
laughing.

"No, but you. . . .”

"In a minute, in a minute, be quiet; don't say anything,
stand still. I want to look you in the eyes. . . . Stand like
that, and let me look. I say good-bye to man.”

He stood and looked fixedly at Myshkin for ten seconds with-
out speaking. Very pale, his hair soaked with sweat, he caught
somehow strangely at Myshkin’s hand with his as though afraid
to let him go.

"Ippolit, Ippolit, what is the matter with you?” cried
Myshkin.

"Directly. . . . Enough. . . . I’m going to bed. I’ll have
one drink to greet the sun. ... I want to, I want to . . . let
me be.”

He quickly caught up a glass from the table, sprang up from
his seat, and in one instant he ivas at the veranda steps.
Llyshkin was about to run after him, but it happened, as though
by design, that at that moment Yevgeny Pavlovitch held out
his hand to say good-bye to him. One second after, there was
a general outcry on the veranda. Then followed a minute of
extreme consternation.

This \vas what had happened. On reaching the veranda steps,
Ippolit had stopped short, rvith his left hand holding the glass
and his right hand in his coat pocket. Keller aftervvards declared
that Ippolit had that hand in his right-hand pocket before,
while he was talking to Myshkin, and clutching at his shoulder
and his collar with his left hand, and that that right hand in his
pocket, so Keller declared, had first raised a faint suspicion in
him. However that may have been, some uneasiness made him
run after Ippolit. But he was too late. He only saw something
suddenly shining in Ippolit’s right hand, and at the same second,
a little pocket pistol ^vas against his temple. Keller rushed to
seize his hand, but at that second, Ippolit presse'd the trigger.
There was the sound of the sharp, short click of the trigger, but
no shot followed. When Keller seized Ippolit, the young man
fell into his arms, apparently unconscious, perhaps really
imagining that he was killed. The pistol was already in Keller’s
hand. Ippolit was held, a chair was brought. They sat him
do\vn on it, and all crowded round, shouting and asking ques-
tions. All had heard the click of the trigger, and saw the man
alive without a scratch. Ippolit himself sat, not understanding

411

genLS ”^Sb“ tte p^of “"o^ced.
|ug^er?"^^;;f^Jhe followed. The

find a malignant P^fy positively rna ^ succeeded by

everyone, even to Ferwf^t^'^' "n^mg his hanf^°^^ sobbed as
hands, swearina t ha f whom h» w nished up to

nhy and not of purpoL^'^/®^^®^^' "Srgotten

™e caps hem iT? » to put to +?,„ gotten quite accident

^ovved thS,“ ^ ^^‘stooat poScS" "be iSd ah

“ b<=tore for*? Ifimf B.f f ti^em foe

toat he going off^y iadn;t put thim

and he had sudS w i^^vifg S Pnnket;

to Yevgenv Pa, i v torgotten it " w'’ nine to put a ran in

doctor, ^bittS^^°^¥^ly sobere^"ft“;° %shkin's
^todle of the r^om^Tn^ uncof^cS general. When

-?»“ 3:

Gentlemen I Tf a,,, ^ diat all miaht

S“u^*aS.y"^£^oC^^^^ to mv

: sf£L:i

':€i-r!:rr

^ i’u asked him. the ot^^ hid g^®'

412

“Just so,”, said Yevgeny Pavlovitch, suddenly sitting down
and making Myshkin sit beside him. "But now I have changed
my mind for a time. I confess that I have had rather a shock,
and so have you. My thoughts are in a tangle. Besides, what
I want to discuss with you is too important a matter to me and
to you too. You see, prince, for once in my life, I want to do
something absolutely honest, that is, something absolutely with-
out any ulterior motive; and, well, I think I’m not quite capable
of doing anything perfectly honest at this moment, and you too
perhaps . , . and so . . . well, we'U discuss it later. Perhaps
the matter will be made more plain later to both of us, if we
wait another three days, which I shall spend now in Peters-
burg.”

Then he got up from his chair again, so that it seemed strange
he should have sat down. Myshkin fancied, too, that Yevgeny
Pavlovitch was annoyed and irritated, that there was a hostile
look in his eyes which had not been there before.

"By the way, are you going to the patient now?”

"Yes. . . . I’m afraid,” said Myshkin,

"Don’t be afraid. He’ll live another six weeks, and he may
even get well here. But the best thing you can do is to get rid
of him to-morrow.”

"Perhaps I really did egg him on by . . . not saying any-
thing. He may have thought I didn’t believe he would shoot
himself? What do you think, Yevgeny Pavlovitch?”

"Not at all. It’s too good-natured of you to worry about it.
I’ve heard tell of such things, but I’ve never in real life seen a
man shoot himself on purppse to win applause, or from spite
because he was not applauded for it. And, what’s more, I
wouldn’t have believed in such an open exhibition of feeble-
ness. But you’d better get rid of him to-morrow all the
same.”

"Do you think he’ll shoot himself again?”

"No, he won’t do it now. But be on your guard wth these
home-bred Lasseners of ours. I repeat, crime is only too often
the refuge of these mediocre, impatient and greedy nonentities.”

"Is he a Lassener?”

“The essence is the same, though the emfhis are different,
perhaps. You'll see whether this gentleman isn’t capable of mur-
dering a dozen people simply as a 'feat’, as he read us just
now in his ‘Explanation’. Those words of Ms won’t let me sleep
now.”

"You are too anxious perhaps." -

413

eluded irrifab5’“ ^%i7 • • •"

“o3.”L-jjir “ '^^us

^S dreamiJv af ^ ^ anvon^ " ,

^ :|S"l^didf’{nd'

hour fai; ,vh •"’“* out. ' ^^“ghed Yevgeny

pas. «.- 0'C«,

'';^s quiet in the houTe f of < but was

een restored. The sVv^k^’ possible ^'^'erything

^eclared that there S n7 aleep

lay doL"^„^P.^!'^.^ danger.7;htSi^^^°'^tor

13 x^,'^®rching hini tC “vaJid’s room -o^ojya,

Be ^ ^shlcin's Easi?/''® "^tbing S^'e ® r

•We Wandered ir, ., “easiness grew frr,T„ ° ™ ^e afraid of

*PP«<J “n%ri 'trt ">

He was impressed hi/ pk 'o-sfands nf the

££:~£4|Siv«.SR«s

SsS-naafeBjI-SSps

g his first year *i,

41^ ' UJ the early part

of it, in fact. Tlicn he was almost like an idiot; he could not
even speak properly — and sometimes could not understand what
was wanted of him. He once went up into the mountain-side,
on a bright, sunny day, and walked a long time, lus mind
possessed with an agonising but unformulated idea. Before him
was the brilliant sky, below, the lake, and all around an horizon,
bright and boundless which seemed to have no ending. He
gazed a long time in distress. He remembered now how he
had stretched out Ills hands to that bright, infinite blue, and
had shed tears. Wliat tortured him was tJrat he was utterly
outside all this. What was this festival? what was this grand,
everlasting pageant to which there was no end, to wliich he had
always, from Iris earliest childhood, been drawn and in which
he could never take part? Every morning the same bright sun
rises, every morning the same rainbow in the waterfall; every
evening that highest snow mountain glows, with a flush of
purple against the distant sky, every "little fly that buzzes
about him in the hot sunshine has its part in the chorus; knows
its place, loves it and is happy”. Every blade of grass grows
and is happy 1 Everj'thing has its path, and everything knows
its path, and wth a song goes forth, and with a song returns.
Only he knows nothing, and understands nothing, neither men
nor sounds; he is outside it all, and an outcast. Oh, of course
he could not say it then in those words, could not utter his
question. He suffered dumbly, not comprehending; but now it
seemed to him that he had said all this at the time, those very
words, and that that phrase about the "fly” Ippolit took from
liim; from his words tten and his tears. He felt sure of it, and
for some reason the thought set his heart beating.

He dropped asleep on the seat, but his agitation still persisted.
Just as he was falling asleep he remembered that Ippolit was to
kill a dozen people, and smiled at the absurdity of the notion.
There was an exquisite brightness and stillness all round him,
only broken by the rustle of the leaves which seemed to make
it even more silent and solitary. He had many dreams, and all
were disquieting, and at times made him start uneasily. At last
a woman came to him; he knew her, and knowing her was
torture; he knew her name, and would have known her any-
where — but strange to say — her face now was not the same as
he had always known it, and he felt an agonising reluctance to
acknowledge her as the same woman. There was such remorse
and horror in this face that it seemed as though she must be
a fearful criminal, and had just committed some awful crime.

415

Tears quivered nn i,

P^t her fineer f^ K .f P^Je cheeks- ch u

Che . ^^^apterviii

?4t '”“■ “

''^•ou^^hVS" ^“^youP Ha

*£rsi£‘™'“ -"'

was ouiv a awake.

° H™“k ? ‘i;''' a^a *S''’ P®®"™!)' "Sh,

‘“i® k" idi"- "■a^^er- .i, '/k *4’?"®= a‘ aaab

seat; be sa,

see her’ sometimes hi, ®P®amn iutenf) * the con-

'■otyi •■'?^”.‘°fiSh“ 'P« '"“tad eaaed at

••WieJ?’ ,„«■'! Mj’ahtm. et,^. ""S'" ka did act

SS- ^aTa^L?® a|e^!r& kia-aaif."

:::r

^gJm'a iasisted^^^' Tou know tt, . ’ sudden

SlJ kai^’a al aare^^^S* h °‘ «» “«■■'

ys irrelevant QW^V^terrupfing
416 ^^oJistehed TO’th

great interest to what Yevgeny Pavlowtch had said, and several
times asked him to repeat it.

"Well, that's enough! We must make haste,” she ended, after
hearing everything. "We've only an hour to be here, till eight
o'clock. For at eight I must be at home, so that they mayn't
know I've been sitting here, and I've come out with gn object.
I have a great deal to tell you. Only you've quite pnt me out
now. About Ippolit, I think that his pistol was bound not to go
off. It's just like him. But you're sure that he really meant
to shoot himself, and that tliere %vas no deception about it?”

"There was no deception.”

"That’s more likely, indeed. So he wrote that you were to
bring me his confession? Why didn’t you bring it? ”

"Why, he’s not dead. I’ll ask him for it.”

“Be sure to bring it. And there is no need to ask him. He'll
certainly be delighted, for perhaps it was with that object he
shot at himself, that I might read his confession afterwards.
Please don't laugh at me, I beg you, Lyov Nikolayevitch,
because it may very well be so.”

"I’m not laughing, for I’m convinced myself that that may
very likely be partly the reason.”

"You’re convincedl Do you really think so, too?’*

Aglaia was extremely surprised.

She asked rapid questions, talked quickly, but sometimes
seemed confused, and often did not finish her sentences. At
times she seemed in haste to warn him of something. Altogether
she was in extraordinary agitation, and though she looked very
bold and almost defiant, she was perhaps a little scared too. She
was wearing a very plain everyday dress, which suited her
extremely well. She was sitting on the edge of the seat, and she
often started and blushed. Myshkin’s confirmation of her idea,
that Ippolit had shot himself that she might read his confession
afterwards, surprised her very much.

"Of course,” Myshkin explained, "he wanted us all to praise
him, as well as you. . . .”

“Praise him?”

"That is . . . how ^all I tell you ... it is very difficult to
explain. Only he certainly wanted everyone to conie round
him and tell fito that they loved him very much and Respected
him; he longed' for them all to beg him to remain alive, it may
very well be that he had you in his mind more than anyone,
because he mentioned j'ou at such a moment . . . though’
perhaps; he didn't know himself that he had you in mind.”

417

a s,°",=r r-,' 's^‘^ -s fc';„^Y5r!«-

h.i5't”- “ •''°" '“i - «n.„.

ifn^. I S thinw" ‘0 me." ,,„ .... .

me. And what does it matter to me if you did go to the band-
stand? What woman was it you were dreaming about?”

"It was . . . you’ve seen her.”

"I understand. I quite understand. You think a lot. . . .
How did you dream of her? What was she doing? Though I
don’t care to know," slic snapped out, with an air of vexation.
"Don’t interrupt me. . . .”

She waited a little, as though to pluck up her courage or to
overcome her vexation.

"I’ll tell you what I asked you to come for; I want to make
a proposition that you should be my friend. Why are you star-
ing at me all of a sudden?” she asked, almost wrathfuUy.

M5relikin certainly was watching her very intently at that
moment, observing that she had begun to flush hotly again. In
such cases, the more she blushed, the more angry she seemed
with herself, and it was unmistakably apparent in her flashing
eyes. Usually she transferred her anger to the person she was
talking to, whether he were to blame or not, and would begin
quarrelling wth him. Being aware of her own awkwardness and
desperate shyness and very conscious of it, she was, as a rule,
not very ready to enter into conversation, and was more silent
than her sisters, sometimes too silent, indeed. YTien, particu-
larly in such delicate cases, she was positively obliged to speak,
she would begin the conversation with marked haughtiness and
■with a sort of defiance. She always felt beforehand when she
\wis beginning or about to begin to blush.

"Perhaps you don’t care to accept my proposition?” She
looked haughtily at Myshkin.

"Oh, yes, I should like to. Only it was quite unnecessary.
. . . That is, I shouldn’t have thought you need make such a
proposition,” said Myshkin in confusion.

"W'hat did you think then? What do you suppose I asked
you to come here for? YTiat’s in your mind? But perhaps you
look on me as a little fool, as they all do at home?”

"I didn’t know that they look on you as a fool. I ... I
don’t look on you so.”

"You don’t look on me so? Very clever on your part. Par-
ticularly cleverly expressed.”

"I think you may be quite clever at times,” Myshkin went on.
"'You said something verj' clever just now. You were speaking
of my uncertainty about Ippolit. ‘There’s nothing but truth
in it, and so it’s unjust.' I shall remember that and think it
over.”

419

wife ““'S r

^3M of It yesterday Fco^ before then
of men, more honesfT^i'^®^ fbe moS hAn V
do say ftat your truthfuj than anvon ^fb-

^^Jcted in vnnr rv** j . * • • that it; fK a sjid if fhpv

that, and deputed I fometim^

mentally afiiicted fv<-> others, because thr> mind about

aLt >>= aogre'a, ^“f W «ally m

fs better in you thfn ^ view) vet oouise; I'm

they have n?ver °f them that matteS

?»e tot «attS Stoat ?" "■« Se ” *“

<S M isn't it?" that doesn't matt^ T.^K"^ ®iod;

^ Perhaps it is " m, i,, . ts that so? That

..^“"'SO? Really P'^r^P^kofyevna"

flaring up \vit.h extraordinary anger. "I can't bear, I can't bear
their continually making me blush there. I don't want to
blush before them, or before Prince S. or before Yevgeny Pavlo-
vitch, or before anyone, and so I've chosen you. To you I want
to tell everything, everything, even the most important thing,
when I ^vant to. and you must hide nothing from me on your
side. I want, with one person at least, to speak freely of every-
thing, as I can to myself. They suddenly began saj'ing that I
was waiting for you, and that I loved you. That began before
you came here, tliough I didn't show them the letter. And now
they're all talking about it. I want to be bold, and not to be
afraid of anything. I don’t want to go to their balls. I want to
be of use. I’ve been wanting to get away for a long time. For
twenty years I've been bottled up at home, and they keep try-
ing to marry me. I've been thi^ing of running away since I
was fourteen, though I was a silly. Now I've worked it all out,
and was waiting for you to ask you all about foreign countries.
I have never seen a Gothic cathedral. I want to go to Rome.
I want to visit all the learned societies. I want to study in Paris.

I was preparing myself and stud3nng all last year, and I've read
a great many books. I have read all the forbidden books.
Alexandra and Adelaida read any boolcs — they're allowed to.
But I am not allowed to read aU of them; they supervise me.

I don’t want to quarrel witli my sisters, but I told my father
and mother long ago that I want to make a complete change
in my social position. I propose to take up teaching, and I've
been reckoning on you because you said you were fond of
children. Couldn’t we go in for education together, not at once
perhaps, but in tlie future? We should be doing good together.

I don't want to be a general's daughter. Tell me, are you a
very learned person?"

"Oh, not at all."

"That's a pity, for I thought . . . how was it I thought so?
You'll be my guide all the same because I have chosen you."

"That’s absurd, Aglaia Ivanovna."

"I want to run away from home — I ^vant to,” she cried, and
again her eyes flashed. "If you won't consent, I shall many
Gavril Ardalionovitch. I don't want to be looked upon as a
horrid girl at home, and be accused of goodness knows what."

"Are you mad?” cried Myshkin, almost leaping up from his
seat. "What are you accused of? Who accuses you?”

"Everyone at home. Mother, my sisters, father. Prince S.,
even your horrid Kolya. If they don’t say so straight out, they

421

o

SQ J # M

Se\if «ot a S/ “”^'^^«ood And

,“”s“S?isi;r '° Ho ,00.0.

asked. Jived Pf ^ understand some

n^sfitute?*' did you nn ^ ApJai, r

never h ^o Sol he

Zl^gh 1 ,verl SS’ i”^^J»ere r-

S,S?. '■”,4‘““i tj? « « tao, 0

S’’ t° '

^ kno\v wh^i- ® .nienacinST,. .^' arrd taking *l

ihat my heart is innocent? How dared you send me a love-
letter, that time?”

"A love-letter? My letter — a love-letter 1 That letter was
most respectful; that letter was the outpouring of my heart at
the bitterest moment of my life ! I thought of you then as of
some light . . . 1 , .

"Oh, very well, very well," she interrupted suddenly, in a
quife different, completely penitent and almost frightened tone.
She turned to him, though still ttying to avoid looking at him,
and seemed on the point of touching his shoulder, to beg him
more persuasively not to be angry with her.

“It’s all right," slie added, terribly shamefaced. "I feel I
used a very stupid expression. I said that just ... to test you.
Take it as though it were unsaid. If I offended you, forgive
me. Don’t look straight at me, please. Turn away. You said
that was a very nasty idea. I said it on purpose to vex you.
Sometimes I’m afraid of what I’m going to say myself, then all
at once I say it. You said just now that you wrote that letter
at tlie most painful moment of your life. 1 know what moment
it was," she said softly, looking at the ground again.

"Oh, if you could know cver 3 ffhing!"

"I do know everything! ” she cried, with renewed excitement.
"You’d been living for a whole month in the same flat with that
horrid woman with whom you ran away. ...”

She did not turn red this time, but turned pale as she uttered
the words, and she stood up as though she did not know what
she was doing, but recollecting herself, sat down again; for a
long time her lip was still quivering. The silence lasted a minute.
Myshkin was greatly taken aback by the suddenness of her out-
burst, and did not know how to account for it.

"I don’t love you at all,” she said suddenly, as though rap-
ping out the phrase.

Myshkin made no answer; again they were silent for a minute.

"I love Gavril Ardalionovitch . . she said, speaking hur-
riedly, but scarcely audibly, bending her head still lower.

"That’s not true,” answered Myshkin, also almost whisper-
ing.

"Then I’m lying? That’s true. I gave him my word the
day before yesterday, on this very seat."

Myshkin was frightened, and pondered a minute.

"That’s not true," he repeated, with decision. "You've
invented all that.”

"You’re wonderfully polite. Let me tell you he’s reformed.

-123

in

He Jovcs me

i?!! -y

;*,wi “S Vi /

• • a o„dI„„d

f «;£?&•«« Ss;:W . „

eccentric, somn»?^^ ®Ottetin’n because wj,„„ the

'■«y rnvei^T^^S. VOU S!"5 °ot quit?oM- a« ivine,

noticed thS ‘he iie so!!’ ne^cr something

properly .f‘ didn't anstve^^l^^'^h l^or^n or

,■'? pat yoM? ? apSaud

aH a^ut‘j ?,hanie for yourV'^'' one fog

‘a C , ■°"’' '»”^”»

'"■“ CaSt

f »i.o1«£«"n«; &*»>» ySr,o ““'yy pif »

‘^^hurg. YesSafe

ing you rushed to defend her, and just now you were dreaming
about her, , , , You see, I know all about it; it was for her
sake, for her sake you came here, Nvasn’t it?”

"Yes, for her sake,” Myshkin answered softly, looking down
r mournfully and dreamily, not suspecting with what burning eyes
Aglaia glared at him.

“For her sake, to find out. ... I don’t believe in her being
happy with Rogozhin tl)ough. ... In short, I don’t kno%v
what I could do for her here, or how I could help her, but I
came.”

He started and looked at Aglaia; she was listening to him w’itli
a look of hatred.

”If you came, not knowing why, then you love her very
much,” she brought out at last.

"No,” answered Myslikin, "no, I don’t love her. Oh, if you
only knew with what horror I rcchll the time I spent wth hcrl”

A shudder ran down him, as he uttered the words.

“Tell me all,” said Aglaia.

“There is notliing in it you might not hear about Why I
wanted to tell you all about it, and only you, I don’t know.
Perhaps because I really did love you very much. That unhappy
woman is firmly convinced that is the most fallen, the most
vicious creature in the whole world. Oh, don’t cry shame on
her, don't throw stones at her I She has tortured herself too
much from tlic consciousness of her undeser\’ed shame! And,
my God, she’s not to blame I Oh, she’s crying out every minute
in her frenzy that she doesn't admit going wrong, that she was
the \nctim of otlicrs, the victim of a depraved and wcked man.
But whatever she may say to you, believe me, she’s tlic first
to disbelieve it, and to believe with hex whole conscience that
slic is ... to blame. Wlien I tried to dispel that gloomy
delusion, it threw her into such miseiy that my heart will
always ache when I remember that awful time. It’s as though
my heart had been stabbed once for all. She ran a^vay from me.
Do you know what for? Simply to show me that she was a
degraded creature. But the most awful thing is that perhaps she
didn't even know herself that she only wanted to prove that to
me, but ran away because she had an irresistible inner craving
to do something shameful, so as to say to herself at once:
‘There, you've done something shameful again, so you’re a
degraded creature!’ Oh, perhaps you won’t understand this,
Aglaia. Do you know that in that continual consciousness of
sliamc there is perhaps a sort of awful, unnatural enjojunent

425

. uh,

f?? hid his faro ; I remind mo"^'"'':'

day^^'^^°you]cnmv'^^5«^. . '

bui*?“' it IS true, M ^ ‘o We aim f

I wouJdn't^f/. «^ed J\fvsKT.- ^°st eveiy

,.^°gozhia sairf c hear it?" ^ ^ ^

R^r-^^ierdav? xr ^.^^sferdav L..‘^&iaia astor? .. .

..''“fiuzflm sair? o hear it?" ^

y«Sy‘'5’- ^"‘ ““red.

-v™..

we letters." Sho'o •

^Shia puJied fh "

4^6 fc„.„ ^

envelopes out of her pocket and threw them down before
Myslikin. “For tlie last week she's been beseeching, imploring,
coaxing me to many you. She . . . Oh, well, she's clever,
though she's insane. And you're right in saying she's much
cleverer than I am. . . . She writes that she’s in Jove wth me,
that she tries every day to gel a chance of seeing me even in
the distance. She writes that you Jove me, that she knows it,
that she noticed it long ago, tliat you used to talk to her about
me then. She wants to see you happy. She’s certain that only
I can make you happy. . . . She writes so wildly ... so
strangely. ... I haven’t shown her letters to anyone. I’ve
been waiting for you. Do you know what this means? Can
you guess?"

"It's madness, a proof of her insanity," Myshkin brought
out, and his lips began to tremble.

“You're not crying now, are you?"

“No, Aglaia. No. I’m not crying." Myshkin looked at her.

“What am I to do about it? What do you advise me? I can’t
go no getting these letters!"

"Oh, leave her alone, I entreat you!" cried Myshkin. "'WTiat
can you do in this darkness? I’ll do all I can to prevent her
writing to you again."

"Then you’re a man of no heart!” cried Aglaia. “Surely
you must see that she’s not in love with me, but that she loves
you, only you. How can you have noticed everything in her
and not have seen that? Do you know what it is, what these
letters mean? It's jealousy. It’s more than jealousy! She
... do j^ou suppose slic’d really marry Rogozhin as she writes
here in her letters? She'd kill herself the day after our
wedding ! "

Myshkin started; his heart stood still. But he gazed in
amazement at Aglaia. It was strange to him to realise that the
child was so fully a woman.

“God knows, Aglaia, that to bring peace back to her and
make her happy I would give up my life. But ... I can’t
love her now, and she knows it ! ”

“Then sacrifice yourself, it’s just in your line! You’re such
a charitable person ! And don't call me Aglaia. . . . You called
me simply Aglaia just now. You ought to raise her up, you are
bound to. You ought to go away with her again so as to
give peace and calm to her heart. Why, you love her, you
know! "

"I can’t sacrifice myself like that, though I did want to at

427

one tune . . ,

sometIunp“w ^^er S } »ne, but

,3sar?s;“ - «:»”ift

■ ■ • and iJi™"' ''oa delate. , "■ “'““"W. . , .

"J don't tn. . 'vhcn voTi ^S"^ and

^ bad Tn ;ii bow. fn ^ °njy seen

^°^gbt of Perhaps of a^n tJien T rf

^or J began fo ® *na4 S ^

/^d there ^va3?™\^°/^?er sake?"

rt-rit^ J- And If ” A P loH^^ \ - • J bep vn„ t1„„

to d?"^-^-. ■ 3'ouf;om4“ “^^teady voie

‘»frS'S.1V° ttSX' ■' ?S'’'’’« iS
nd l5w{“^a'.'^!?,“ I*"*"'' ®Sd“f

te'f" "'“taS gf ay ™ andden

voT^^Cl

?2.vi;jS"^ t&L. '^* >"&; ■• tt,y t ■ ‘*’“'
Wl'n' '"'ife’V'"" ‘"'ore U,

,,7 '»-"’'»re»l-“'S/,-g»d

flying out at her. “Do you hear? Is your curiosity satisfied?
Is that enough for you?”

And she ran home.

"No, my friend, don’t you go away,” said Lizaveta Proko-
lyevna, detaining him, "you’ll be so good as to give me an
explanation. What have I done to be so worried? I’ve been
awake all night as it is.”

M3'shkin followed her.

CHAPTER IX

O N reaching home Lizaveta Prokofyevna stopped in the first
room; she could go no farther and sank on the couch, per-
fectly limp, forgetting even to ask Myshkin to sit down. It was
a rather large room, mth a round table in the middle of it, with
an open fireplace, with quantities of flowers on an itagere in the
•window, and •with another glass door leading into the garden in
the opposite wall. Adelaida and Alexandra came in at once, and
looked inquiringly and with perplexity at their mother and
Myshkin.

At their summer villa the girls usually got up about nine
o’clock; but for the last three days Aglaia had been getting up
earlier and going for a walk in tlie garden, not at seven o’dock
but at eight or even later. Lizaveta Prokofyevna, who really
had been kept awake aU night by her various worries, got up
about eight o’clock on purpose to meet Aglaia in the garden,
reckoning on her being up already; but she did not find her
eitlier in the garden or in her bedroom. At last she grew
thoroughly alarmed and waked her daughters. From the
servants she learnt that Aglaia Ivano'vna had gone out into the
park at seven o'clock. The girls laughed at their whimsical
sister’s new whim, and observed to &eir mother that Aglaia
might very likely be angry, if she went to look for her in the
park, and that she •was probably -with a book sitting on the
green seat of which she had been talking the day before yester- .
day, and about wWch she had almost quarrelled with Prince S.
because he saw nothing particularly picturesque about it.
Coming upon the couple, and hearing her daughter's strange
words, Lizaveta Prokofyevna was greatly alarmed for many
reasons, but when she brought Myshkin home •with her, she
felt uneasy at halving spoken openly about it. "After all, why
should Aglaia not meet the prince in the park and talk to him,

429

-y.oaa «a„, ., '

happened 3'csferdiv° J to say

y%ior s.L^£y ^ "’.'eht wed notTaZ%T'

She could not go on for .

But jrou would X.«l "’“O’ont.

green seat at . * ^ oiet A^iah t. "athouf

dav (ih 1 ®oven o'clori- ^ Ivanovna (hfc ^ offence;

Sted hnow bv f " '"''heS xie the

"rn„:.-,^°^'7’o Eoanrh.-^ and witK—. ^ , ,

a shadow of l

Sen^S""^ he^boutT ^otb^’^^S ihc room,

befnr« that I j,,,, ^ further?" ® ' '"«'«««. or do vou

■ such AdeTalda^ ^ together.

'^eScv^ M iS ‘“'"-jfr “« tbe pri»,

hy the dignity o' Yevgeny pa I'^ooisy, but he

When AN \, . to her room summed up

.^’^hj.anovS? n got honie about •

"a and the sen-anf “t mne o'cJnoi

"'^ot on the vemndf ^,^^ ^o“od Veia
430 • ^hey were sweep-

ing up and clearing away after the disorder of the previous
evening.

"Thank goodness we’ve had time to finish before you came ! ”
said Vera joyfully.

"Good morning; I feel a little giddy, I didn’t sleep well. I
should like a nap.”

"Here, in the veranda, as you did yesterday? Good. I’ll tell
them all not to wake you. Father’s gone off somewhere.”

The maid went away. Vera \vas about to follow her, but she
turned and went anxiously up to Myshkin.

"Prince, don't be hard on that . . . poor fellow; don’t send
him away to-day.”

"I won’t on any account. It’s as he chooses.”

"He won't do anything now, and . . . don’t be severe with
him.”

"Certainly not, why should I?”

"And don’t laugh at liim, that’s the chief thing.”

"Oh, I shouldn’t think of it.”

"I’m silly to speak of it to a man like you,” said Vera, flush-
ing. "Though you’re tired,” she laughed, half turning to go
away, "your eyes are so nice at this moment . . . they look
happy."

"Do they, really?” Myshkin asked eagerly, and he laughed,
delighted.

But Vera, who was as simple-hearted and blunt as a boy,
was suddenly overcome with confusion, she turned redder and
redder, and, still laughing, she went hurriedly away.

"What a . . . jolly girl,” thought Myshkin, and immediately
forgot her. He went to the comer of the veranda where there
stood a sofai with a little table beside it; he sat down, hid his
face in his hands and sat so for some ten minutes. All at once,
with haste and agitation, he took three letters out of his coat
pocket.

But again the door opened and Kolya came out. Myshkin
was, as it were, relieved that he had to replace the letters in his
pocket and put off the evil moment.

"Well, what an adventure 1” said Kolya, sitting down on
the sofa and going straight for the subject, as boys like him
always do. "What do you think of Ippolit now? Have you no
respect for him?”

‘ ‘Why not . . . but, Kolya, I’m tired. . . . Besides, it’s too
sad to begin about that again, . . . How is he, though?”

"He’s asleep and won't wake for anotlrer two hours. I under-

431

lliSSsS * ■ ■ -

le. hnf T now. Sho ft^vj .

“'“ ■'" p"!= ■

suioi r “ s p^-adc « „, „

UbcdycVS^S '“'>“■<> taJbl £f I'vo bj„”

Awn, pri„,VSi'gl‘,"”' ““"Koslya

''■"SS; I’>» .™aS^'S'“ ■ • ■ or ralhef &«SS„ ’J™
„Of course . gjj j, . ^ do you

.^at pride? minuted to t-,ft^-t? ^n°ws

s regular defiance nsseSon ^lat-isn't

And after that tn ^ ' i’ ' ’ ^os, ft's Hfan* Personal dignify,

base, incredible/ £ ^eft the Sp of w//

sly. I didn't Dail7h“ be dwdS °° P*^S(^-it’s

,^^d which of von h ^ ^^^ve

“Xio^S? b^„??'^'''- “? " “o "feta-

t'o rSS’t r* '’*, '» wii“,V„a5ofc ,

m Lebedye™/° f “ *o be d^n because

general sleeps a if die house ttI ^^rdyshtchenko too

Lebedyev Si come I-'^bedyev’Slrf The
J?"you. IdonSo °“V° T°“ pSS;'"lr • •

fnm in or not as vo? he askedfor^;, been looking

*00. Oh, bv ^ *0 sleep? r ^*^0. Shall I let

surprised at Sep^^’ ^ ®bould hk^fo ^ have a slLp

^nd suddeSv *bis moraJa f d^ng. I S

432 ‘ came

to asli after the invalid. . . I reported this and that. 'Well,
that’s all right,’ he said, ‘but what I really came out for, what
I got up for was to warn you. I have reasons for supposing that
one can’t say everything before Mr. Ferdyshtchenko and . . .
one must be on one’s guard.’ Do you understand, prince?”

“Really? But ... it doesn't matter to us.”

"Of course it doesn’t. We’re not masons! So I felt surprised
at the general’s getting up on purpose in the night to wake me to
tell me so.”

“Ferdyshtchenko has gone, 3 'oa say?”

“At seven o’clock. He came in to see me on the way. I was
sitting up with Ippolit. He said he was going to spend the day
with Vilkdn — ^there’s a drunken fellow here called Vilkin. Well,
I’m off 1 And here’s Lukyan Timofeyitch. . , . The prince is
sleepy, Lukyan Timofeyitch, right about face!”

“Only for a moment, much honoured prince, on a matter
of great consequence to me,” Lebedyev, coming in, pronounced
in a forced undertone of great significance, and he bowed with
dignity.

He had only just come in, and still held his hat in his hand.
His face looked preoccupied and wore a peculiar, unusual ex-
pression of personal dignity. Myshldn asked him to sit down.

“You’ve inquired for me Bvice already? You are still anxious,
perhaps, on account of what happened yesterday?”

“You mean on account of that boy, prince? Oh no; yester-
day my ideas were in confusion . . . but to-day I don’t intend
contrecanying your propositions in anything whatever.”

“Contre ? What did you say? ”

“I said ’contrecarrying’, a French word, like many other
words that have entered into the compqsitiqn of the Russian
language, but I don’t defend it.”

“What’s die matter with you this morning, Lebedyev? You’re
so dignified and formal, and you speak rvith such solemnity and
as if you were spelling it out,” said Myshkin, laughing,

“Nikolay Ardalionovitchl” Lebedyev addressed Kolya in a
voice almost of emotion — “having to acquaint the prince with a
matter affecting myself alone. . .

“Of course, of course, it’s not my business! Good-bye,
prince!” Kolya retired at once.

“I like the child for his tact,” pronounced Lebedyev, looking
after him, “a quick boy, but inquisitive. I’ve encountered a
severe calamity, respected prince, last night or this morning at
daybreak; I hesitate to determine the precise hour.”

433

"What is it?”

"I have lost four hundred roubles from my coat-pocket, much
honoured prince. We were keeping the day!” added Lebedyev
with a sour smile.

"You’ve lost four hundred roubles? That’s a pity.”

"Particularly for a poor man honourably maintaining his
family by his own labour.”

"Of couisc, of course. How did it happen?”

"The fruits of drinking. I have come to you as my Provi-
dence, much honoured prince. I received a sum of four hundred
roubles in silver from a debtor yesterday at five o’clock in the
afternoon, and I came back here by train. I had my pocket-
book in my pocket. When I changed my uniform for my indoor-
coat, I put the money in tlie coat-pocket, intending that very
evening to meet a call witli it. ... I was expecting an agent.”

"By the way, Lukyan Timofeyitch, is it true you pul an
advertisement in the papers that you would lend money on gold
or silver articles?”

"Through an agent; my own name does not appear, nor my
address. The sum at my disposal is paltry, and in view of
the increase of my family you will admit tliat a fair rate of
interest. ...”

"Quite so, quite so. I only asked for information; forgive my
interrupting." '\

“The agent did not turn up. Meantime the wretched boy
was brought here, i was already in an over-elevated condition
after dinner; the v^tors came, we drank . . . tea, and . . •
and I grew merry to my ruin. When Keller came in late and
announced your fete-day and the order for champagne, since I
have a heart, dear'^nd much-honoured prince (which you have
probably remarked already, seeing that I have deserved you
should), since Iliavc a heart, I will not say feeling, but grateful
— and I am proud of it — I thought, well, to do greater respect
to the coming festivity and, in expectation of congratulating
you, by going to change my old hoxise-coat, and putting on the
uniform I had taken off on my return — ^which indeed I did, as
you, prince, probably observed, seeing me the whole evening in
my uniform. Changing my attire, I forgot the pocket-book in
the coat-pocket ... so true it is that when God will chastise a
man. He first of all deprives him of his reason; and only this
morning, at half-past seven, on waking up, I jumped up like a
madman and snatched first thing at my coat — the pocket was
empty ! The pocket-book had vanished ! ”

434

*'Ach, tliat is unpleasant! ”

"Unpleasant indeed; and with true tact you have at once
found the right word for it," Lebedycv added, not without
slyness.

"Well, but'. . ." Myshkin said uneasily, pondering. "It's
serious, you know.”

"Serious indeed. Again, prince, you have found the word to
describe. ..."

"Ach, don't go on, Lukyan Timofeyitch. What is there to
find? Words are not what matter. Do you think you could have
dropped it out of your pocket when you were drunk?”

"I might have. Anything may happen when one is drunk, as
you so sincerely e.\prcss it, much honoured prince. But I beg
j'ou to consider if I had dropped the article out of ray pocket
when I changed my coat, the dropped article would have been
on the floor. Where is that article?"

"Did you put it away perhaps in a drawer in a table?”

"I've looked through everytliing, I've rummaged everywhere,
though I hadn't hidden it anywhere and hadn't opened any
drawer, as I distinctly remember.”

"Have you looked in your cupboard?”

"The first thing I did was to look in the cupboard, and I've
looked there several times already. . . . And how could I have
put it in the cupboard, truly honoured prince?''

"I must own, Lebedyev, this distresses me. Then someone
must have found it on the floor?” I

"Or picked it out of my pocketl Two alternatives."

"This distresses me very much, for who.j . . . That’s the
question!" (

"Not a doubt of it. That is the great question; you find the
very word, the very notion, with wonderful Exactitude, and you
define tlie position, most illustrious prince.”

"Ach, Lukyan Timofeyitch, give over scoffing, this . . .”

“Scoffing 1” cried Lebedyev, clasping his hands.

"Well, well, that’s all right. I'm not angry. It’s quite
another matter. . . . I'm afraid for people. \Vhom do you
suspect?”

"'A most difficult and complicated question I The servant
I can't suspect; she was sitting in the kitchen. Nor my own
children either. ...”

"I should think not!”

"One of the visitors then.”

"But is that possible?”

435

"Utterly, and in the highest degree impossible, but so it must
be. I’m prepared to admit, however, I’m convinced, indeed,
that it is a case of theft; it could not have been committed in
Ae evening when we were all together, but in the night or
even in &e morning by someone who passed the night
here.’’

"Ach, my Godl"

"Burdovsky and Nikolay Ardalionovitch I naturally exclude;
and they didn’t even come into my room.”

"I should think so 1 Even if they had come I Who spent the
night there?”

"Counting me, there were four of us in two adjoining rooms:
the general, KeUer, Mr. Ferdyshtchenko and I. So it must have
been one of us four!”

"Of the three, then. But which?”

"I counted myself for correctness and accuracy; but you will
admit, prince, that I could hardly have robbed myself, though
such cases do happen. ...”

"Ach, Lebedyev, how wearisome this is!” cried Myshkin.
"Come to the point. 'Why do you drag it out?”

"So that leaves three, and first, Mr. Keller, an unsteady,
drunken fellow, and in certain respects liberal, tliat is, as regards
the pocket, but in other respects rather wth chivalrous than
liberal tendencies. He slept here in the sick man’s room, and
only in the night came in here on the pretext of the bare floor
being hard to sleep on.”

"You suspect him?”

"I did suspect him. When at eight o'clock I jumped up like
a madman and struck myself on the forehead with my hands,
I at once waked the general, who was sleeping the sleep of inno-
cence.^ Taking,in{o consideration the strange disappearance of
Ferdyshtchenko, which of itself had aroused our suspicions, we
both resolved to search Keller, who was lying sleeping like a
top. We searched him thoroughly: he hadn't a farming in his
pockets, and we couldn't find one pocket %vithout a hole in it.
He'd a blue check cotton handkerchief in a disgusting condition;
then a love-letter from a housemaid, threatening him and asking
for money, and some bits of the article you heard. The general
decided that he was innocent. To complete our investigation we
waked the man himself by f>oking him violently. He could
h^dly undeistand what was the matter. He opened his mouth
wth a drunken air; the expression of his face was absurd and
innocent, foolish even — ^it was not he!”

436

"Well, I am glad!” Myshkin sighed joyfully. "I was so
afraid for him ! ”

"You were afraid? Then you had some grounds for it?”
Lcbedyev screwed up his eyes.

"Oh no, I meant nothing,” faltered Myshkin. "I was very
stupid to say I was afraid for him. Do me tiie favour, Lcbedyev,
not to repeat it to 3113^000. ...”

"Prince, prince! Your words arc in my heart ... at the
bottom of my heart! It is a tomb! ...” said Lcbedyev
ecstatically, pressing his hat to his heart.

"Good, good. . . . Then it must have been Ferdyshtchenko?
That is, I mean you suspect Ferdyshtchenko?”

"Who else?” Lcbedyev articulated softly, looking intently
at Myshkin.

"To be sure. . . . Who else is there . . . but I mean again,
what evidence is there? ”

"There is evidence. First his disappearance at seven o’clock,
or before seven in the morning.”

"I know; Kol}^ told me that he went in to him and said
that he w’as going to spend the day with. ... I forget with
whom . . . some friend of his.”

"Vilkin. So Nikolay Ardalionovitch has told you already?"

"He told me notliing about the theft.”

"He doesn’t know, for I’ve kept it secret for the time being.
And so he went to Vilkin ’s. It would seem there’s nothing
strange in a drunken man going to see another drunken fellow
like himself, even before daybreak, and wthout any reason.
But here we have a clue : as he went he left the address. •. . .
Now, prince, follow up the question: why did he leave an
address? Why did he purposely go out of his way to Nikolay
Ardalionovitch to tell him, 'I’m going to spend the day at
Vilkin’s’ . Who would care to know that he was going away and
to Vilkin’s? Why announce it? No, here we have the cunning,
the cunning of a thief! It's as much as to sa}^ ‘I purposely
don’t cover up my traces, so how can I be a to'ef? Would a
thief leave word where he was going? ’ It’s an excess of anxiety
to avert suspicion, and to efface, so to say, his footprints in the
sand. ... Do you understand me, honoured prince?”

"I understand, I quite understand, but you know that's not
enough.”

"A second clue. The track turns out to be a false one, and
the address given was not exact. An hour later, that is at eight
o’clock, I was knocking at Vilkin’s; he lives here in Fifth Street,

437

'P® Se'd”- “ ‘‘“'.'■Xter^r ‘■tfoL >^>

°”“aS •° f ‘“P

r ta f/? 'SfP“ ^°' "”'

^^hedyey rn i is therp f/% ' ® much "

Pondeifcg.. "■' %shidn prono^d °a“nx“T “

'«■■ “ SL- ;, ■ ^<1 what d v, ® ' '“" “»" “•

ki"d»*?“ S?.-X?T -

.t^£iS-taSSttra»

PerdishM t deserve it I don’t

certafnh, . ^^“'^■^or-nothing Mr.

intend to ®"d vdt^J^^^- Worried me ” at

tchenko.?- ^° • • . if *®®^^sfacdon. cut

'vouft i?”- evidence,

" •' wa " s&'£-

“Nor suppose? He-he-

„ ;:’^Wjat fojf"?^f^,? He-he-hef’.

sm-d,

/h°- Jmea^°L°° ®^take] He h k “J-

the track r ^^°cral dir? i ^ '^C'hef a-j ,

genera] was p to ViJkin’c^ ''ith him ^nsed me,

^cd him up. jj."cn, hrst thing after
438 ^ace changed He

turned red and pale, and at last flew into violent and righteous
indication beyond anytlung I should have suspected of him.
He is a most honourable man I He tells lies continually, from
weakness, but he’s a man of the lofflest sentiments. A man, too,
of no guile, who inspires the fullest confidence by his artlessncss.
I have told you already, honoured prince, that I've more than
a weakness, I’ve an afl'ection for him. He suddenly stopped
in the middle of the street, unbuttoned his coat, uncovered his
chest. 'Search me!' he said. ‘You searched Keller. Why
don’t you search me? That’s only justice I’ said he. And his
arms and legs were trembling; he was quite pale; he looked
so tlireatcning. I laughed and said: 'Listen, general, if anyone
else had said such a tiling about you, I’d have taken my head off
with my own hands; I’d have put it on a big dish, and would
have carried it myself to everyone who doubted you: do you
see this head? I would say. I’ll answer for him with this head,
and not only so, but I’d go through fire for him. That’s what
I'd do,’ said I. Then he Uircw his arms round me, there in the
street, burst into tears, trembling, and squeezed me so tight
that it made me cough. ‘You're tlie onlj^ friend left me in my
misfortunes,' said he. He’s a man of feeling! Then, of course,
he told me an anecdote on the spot, of how he had once been
suspected of stc.'Uing five hundred thousand roubles in his youth,
but that next day he had tlirown himself into a house on fire
and had dragged out of the flames the count who had suspected
him, and Nina Alexandrovna, who was a girl at the time. The
count embraced him, and so his marriage followed with Nina
Alexandrovna. And nc.xt day, in the ruins of tlie house, they
found a bo.x with the lost money in it. It was an iron box of
English make, with a secret lock, and it had somehow got under
tlie floor so tliat no one noticed it, and it was only found after
tlie fire. A complete lie. But when he spoke of Nina Alexan-
drovna he positively blabbered. A most honourable lady, Nina
Alexandrovna, though she is angrj' with me."

’’You don’t kno%v her, do you?'’

’’Scarcely at all, but I should be heartily glad to, if only to
justify myself to her. Nina Alexandrovna has a grievance
against me, pretending that I lead her spouse astray into
drunkenness. But far from leading him astray, I restrain him.

I perhaps entice liim away from more pernicious society. Be-
sides, he's my friend and, I confess it to you, I won’t desert him
now. In fact, it’s like this: where he goes there I go. For you
can only manage him tlirough his sensibility. He’s quite given

439

up visiting his captain's widow now, though he secretly longs
for her, and even sometimes moans for her, especially in the
morning when he puts on his boots. I don’t know why it’s at
that time. He’s no money, that’s the trouble, and there’s no
going to see her without. Hasn’t he asked you for money,
honoured prince?”

"No, he hasn’t.”

"He’s ashamed to. He did mean to. He owned to me, in
fact, that he meant to trouble you, but he's bashful, seeing you
obliged him not long ago, and besides he thinks you woSdn’t
give it him. He told me this as his hriend.”

“But you don't give him money?”

"Prince! Honoured prince! For that man I'd give not
money alone, but, so to say, my life. . . . But no, I don't
want to exaggerate, not my life, but if it were a case of fever,
an abscess, or even a cough, I’d be ready to bear it for him, I
really would. For I look upon him as a great, though fallen
man! Yes, indeed, not only money.”

"Then you do give him money?”

"N-no; money I have not given him, and he knows himself
that I won’t give it him. But that’s solely with a view to his
elevation and reformation. Now he is insisting on coming to
Petersburg with me. You see, I’m going to Petersburg to find
Mr. Ferdyshtcheriko while the tracfe are fresh. For I know
for a fact that he\is there by now. My general is all eagerness,
but I suspect that he’ll give me the slip in Petersburg to visit
his widow. I’m letting him go on purpose, I must own, as we’ve i
agreed to go in different directions, as soon as we arrive, so as
to catch Mr. Ferdjtehtchenko more easily. So I shall let him go,
and then fall on him all of a sudden, like snow on the head, at
the widow’s — ju^t to put him to shame, as a family man, and as
a man, indeed, speaking generally.”

"Only don’t make a disturbance, Lebedyev. For goodness’
sake, don’t make a disturbance,” Myshkin said in an tmder-
tone with great uneasiness.

"Oh no, simply to put him to shame and see what sort of a
face he makes, for one can judge a great deal from the face,
honoured prince, especially wth a man like that ! Ah, prince I
Great as my own trouble is now, I caimot help thinking of him
and the reformation of his morals. I have a great favour to
ask of you, prince, and I must confess it was expressly for that
I have come to you. You are famiUar wth their home, j'ou
have even lived with them; so, if you would decide to assist

440

me, honoured prince, entirely for the sake of the general and his
happiness. , .

Lebedyev positively clasped his hands, as though in supplica-
tion.

“Assist you? Assist you how? Believe me, I am extremely
anxious to understand 3'ou, Lebedyev."

“It was entirely with that conviction I have come to ■'ou!
We could act through Nina Alexandrovna, constantly watching
oyer, and, so to speak, tracking his excellency in the bosom of
lus family. I don’t know them, unluckily . . . moreover,
Nikolay Ardalionovitch adores you, so to speak, with every
fibre of his youthful heart, he could help, perhaps. . .

"No, to bring Nina Alexandrovna into this business . . .
Heaven forbid 1 Nor Kol3'a either. . . . But perhaps I still fail
to understand you, Lebedyev."

“Why, there’s nothing to understand ! ’’ Lebedyev sprang up
from his chair. “Sympathy, sympathy, and tenderness — that’s
all the treatment our invalid requires. You, prince, will allow
me to tliink of him as an invalid?"

"Yes, it sliows your delicacy and intelligence.”

"For the sake of clearness, I will explain to you by an
example taken from my practice. You see the kind of man he
is : his only weakness now is for that widow, who won't let him
come without money, and at whose house I mean to discover
him to-day, for his own good; but supposing it were not only the
captain’s widow, supposing he had committed an actual crime,
or an3rway a most dishonourable action (though of course he's
incapable of it), even then, I tell you, you could do anything
with him simply by generous tenderness, so to speak, for he is
the most sensitive of men 1 Believe me, he wouldn't hold out
for five days; he would speak out of himself; he would weep
and confess, especially if one went to work cleverly, and in an
honourable style, by means of his family's vigilant watch, and
yours, over his comings and goings. . . . Oh, most noble-
hearted prince!” Lebedyev leapt up in a sort of exaltation.
“Of course I’m not asserting that he ... I am ready to shed
my last drop of blood, so to speak, for him at this moment,
though his incontinence and drunkenness and the captain’s
widow, and all that, taken together, may lead him on to any-
thing."

"In such a cause I am always ready to assist,” said Myshkin,
getting up. "Only, I confess, Lebedyev, I am dreadfully un-
easy; tell me, do you still ... In one word you say yourself

441

...

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<0 speak ill ol iiim ^''^|V^'*W>cnko H' «-«'J/d b(.,i

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442

"Kolya told me it just now, and he was told it this morning
by his father whom he met at six o'clock — ^between six and seven
— ^in the passage when he came out for something."

And Myshkin told the story in detail,

"Ah, well, that's what’s called a clue.” Lebedyev laughed
noiselessly, rubbing his hands. ‘ 'Just as I thought I That means
that his excellency waked from his sleep of innocence at six
o’clock, expressly to go and wake his darling son and warn him
of the great danger of associating with Mr. Ferdyshtchenko.
What a dangerous man Mr. Ferdyshtchenko must be! And
what parental solicitude on the part of his excellency! ”

"Listen, Lebedyev," Myshkin was utterly confused, "listen,
keep quiet about it! Don’t make an uproar! I beg you,
Lebedyev, I entreat you. In that case I swear I'll help you,
but on condition that nobody, nobody knows!”

‘‘Rest assured, most noble-hearted, most sincere and generous
prince,” cried Lebedyev in perfect exaltation — “rest assured
that all this will be buried in my loyal heart. I’d give eveiy*
drop of my blood. . . . Illustrious prince. I’m a poor creature
in soul and spirit, but ask any poor creature, any scoundrel
even, which he’d rather have to do with, a scoundrel like him-
self or a noble-hearted man like you, most true-hearted prince,
he’ll answer that he prefers the noble-hearted man, and that’s
the triumph of virtue ! Good-bye, honoured prince ! Treading
softly . . . treading softly, and . . . hand in hand."

CHAPTER X

M yshkin understood at last why he turned cold every time
he touched those three letters, and why he had put off read-
ing them until the evening. When, in the morning, he had sunk
into a heavy deep on tire lounge in the veranda without having
brought himself to open those three envelopes, he had another
painful dream, and again the same "sinful woman” came to
him. Again she looked at him with tears sparkling on her long
eyelashes, again beckoned him to follow her, and again he
waked up, as he had done before, wth anguish recalling her
face. He wanted to go to her at once, but could not. At last,
almost in despair he opened the letters and began reading them.

These letters too were like a dream. Sometimes one dreams
strange, impossible and incredible dreams; on awakening you
remember them and are amazed at a strange fact. You remember

443

first of all that your reason did not desert you throughout the
dream; you remember even that you acted very cunningly and
logically through all tliat long, long time, while you were sur-
rounded by murderers who deceived you, hid their intentions,
behaved amicably to you while they had a weapon in readiness,
and were only %vaitmg for some si^al; you remember how
cleverly you deceived them at last, hiding from them; then you
guessed that they’d seen through your deception and were only
pretending not to know where you were hidden; but you were sly
then and deceived them again; all this you remember clearly.
But how was it that you could at the same time reconcile your
reason to the obvious absurdities and impossibilities with which
your dream was overflowing? One of your murderers turned
into a woman before your eyes, and the woman into a little, sly,
loathsome dwarf — and you accepted it all at once as an accom-
plished fact, almost wthout the slightest surprise, at the very
time when, on another side, your reason was at its highest
tension and showed extraordinary power, cunning, sagacity, and
logic? And why, too, on walung up and fully returning to
re^ty, do you feel almost every time, and sometimes with extra-
ordinary intensity, that you have left something unexplained be-
hind with the dream? You laugh at the absurdities of your
dream, and at the same time you feel that interwoven with those
absurdities some thought lies hidden, and a thought that is real,
something belonging to your actual life, something that exists
and has ahvays existed in your heart. It’s as though something
new, prophetic, that you were awaiting, has been told you in
your dream. Your impression is vivid, it may be io5dul or
agonising, but what it is, and what was said to you you cannot
understand or recall.

It was almost like this after reading these letters. But even
before he had unfolded them, M}^shkin felt that the very fact of
the existence and the possibility of them was like a nightmare.
How could she have brought herself to write to her, he asked
himself as he wandered about alone that evening (at times not
knowing where he was going). How could she write of ihat, how
could such a mad fantasy have arisen in her mind? But that
fantasy had by now taken shape, and the most amazing thing of
all for him was that, as he read those letters, he himself almost
believed in the possibility and the justification of that fantasy.
Yet, of course, it was a dream, a m’ghtmare, a madness: but
there was something in it tonnentingly real, and agonisingly
true, which justified the drean. and the nightmare and the mad-

444

ness. For several hours together he seemed to be haunted by
what he had read, every minute recalling fragments of it; brood-
ing over tliem, pondering them. Sometimes he was even inclined
to tell himself that he had foreseen all this and known it before-
hand. It even seemed to him as though he had read it all before,
some time very long ago, and that everything that he had
grieved over since, everting that had been a pain or a dread
to him had all lain hidden in those letters he had read long ago.

"When you open this letter" — so the first epistle began —
"you wll look first of all at the signature. The signature will
tell you all and explain all, so there’s no need to make any
defence or explanation. If I were in any way on a level with
you, you might be offended at such impertinence. But, who
am I, and who are you? We are hvo such opposite extremes,
and I am so infinitely below you that I cannot insult you, even
if I wanted to.”

In another place she wrote :

"Don’t consider my words the sick ecstasy of a sick mind, but
you are for me perfection I I have seen you, I see you every day.
I don’t judge you; I have not come by reason to believe that you
are perfection; I simply have faith in it. But one wrong I do
you : I love you. Perfection should not be loved; one can only
look on perfection as perfection. Is that not so? Yet 1 am in
love with you. Though love makes equal, yet don’t be uneasy; I
Iiave not put myself on an equahty with you even in my most
secret thought. I have written, ‘don’t be uneasy’. Can you
possibly be uneasy? I would kiss your footprints if I could.
Oh, I don’t put myself on a level with you. . . . Look at my
signature, you need only look at my signature!”

"I notice, however,” she Avrote in anoQrer letter, "that I join
your name with his, and I have never once asked myself whether
you love him. He loved you, though he had seen you only once.
He thought of you as of ‘light’. Those are his own words, I
heard them from him. But without words I knew that you were
‘light’ for him. I’ve lived a whole month beside him, and under-
stood then that you love him too. To me you and he are one.”

"What does this mean?” she wrote again. "Yesterday I
passed by you and you seemed to blush. It can’t be so. It
was my fancy. If you were brought to the filthiest den and
shown vicejn its nakedness, you should not blush; you are too
lofty to resent an insult. You can hate everyone base and low,
not for your own sake, but for the sake of others, those whom
they wrong. You no one can wrong. Do you know I think you

44.5

even ought to love me? You are for me the same as for him — a
ray of light. An angd cannot hate, cannot help loving. Can one
love eveiyone, all men, all one's neighbours? I have often asked
myself that question. Of course not. It’s unnatural indeed.
In abstract love for humanity one almost alwa5's loves no one
. but oneself. But that’s impossible for us and you are different.
How could you not love anyone when you cannot compare your-
self with anyone, and when you are above every insult, every
personal resentment? You alone can love without egoism, you
alone can love not for yourself, but for the sake of him whom
you love. Oh, how bitter it would be for me to find out that
you feel shame or anger on account of me. That would be your
ruin. You would sink to my level at once.

“Yesterday, after meeting you I went home and invented a
picture. Artists alu'ays paint Christ as He appears in the Gospel
stories. I would paint Him differently. I would imagine Him
alone. His disciples must have sometimes left Him alone. I
would leave only a little child beside Him. The child would be
playing beside Him, perhaps be telling Him something in his
childish words. Christ has been listening, but now He is
thoughtful. His hand still resting unconsciously on the child’s
fair little head. He is looking into the distance at the horizon;
thought, great as the whole world, dwells in His eyes. His face
is sorrowful. The child leans silent with his elbow on Christ’s
knees, his cheek on his little hand and his head turned upwards
and looks intently at Him, pondering as little children sometimes
ponder. The sun is setting. . . . That is my picture. You are
irmocent, and in your innocence lies all your perfection. Oh,
only remember that! W’hat have you to do with my passion
for you? You are now altogether mine, I shall be all my life
beside you. ... I shall soon die.’’

FinaIl3^ in the very last letter stood the words :

"For God’s sake, think nothing of me, and don’t tliink that I
am abasing myself by writing to you like this, or that I belong to
the class of people who enjoy abasing themselves, even if from
pride. No, I have my consolation; but it is difficult for me to
• explain it to you. Itwould be difficult forme to explain it clearty
even to myself, altl.'pugh it torments me that I cannot. But I
know that I cannot abase m3^elf, even from an access of pride;
and of self-abasement from purity of heart I am incapable. And
so I do not abase myself at all.

"Wffiy do I so want to bring you together — ^for your sake or
for my own? For my o\vn sake, of course; for myself, of course,

446

it would solve all my difficulties, I have told mj^self so long ago.
I have heard that your sister Adelaida said of my portrait then
that witli such beauty one might turn the world upside down.
But I have rcnoimccd the world. Docs it amuse you to hear that
from me, meeting me decked in lace and diamonds, in tlie com-
pany of dnmkards and profligates? Don't mind tliat, I have
almost ceased to exist and I Imow it, God knows what in my
stead lives within me. I read tliat every day in two terrible eyes
wliich are always gazing at me, even when they are not before
me. Those eyes arc silent now (they are always silent), but I
know Uieir secret. His house is gloomy, and tlicre is a secret in
it. I'm sure tiiat he has, hidden in his bo.x, a razor wrapped in
silk Uke tliat murderer in Moscow: he too lived in the same house
with his moUier and kept a razor wrapped in silk to cut a throat
with. All tlie time I was in tlicir house, I kept fanejing that
somewhere under tlic floor there might be a corpse hidden there
by his father perhaps, wrapped in American leatlicr, like the
corpse in Uie Moscow case, and surrounded in the same wmy
with jars of Zhdanov’s fluid. I could sliow you the comer. He
is alwaj's silent; but I know he loves me so much that he can’t
help hating me. Your marriage and ours are to take place
together; we liave fixed that. I have no secrets from him. I
should kill him from terror. . . . But he will kill me first. He
laughed just now and said I was raving: he knows I am writing
to you."

And there ^vas much, much more of the same kind of raving
in those letters. One of tlrcm, the second, written in a small
hand, covered two large sheets of note-paper.

At last Myshkin came out of the darkness of the park, where
he had been wandering a long time, as he had the previous
night. The clear limpid night seemed to him lighter than
ever.

"Can it still be so early?" he thought, (He had forgotten to
take his watch.) He fancied he heard music somewhere in the
distance, "It must be at the station,” he thought, "they’ve
certainly not gone there to-day.” As he made the reflection he
saw that he \vas standing close to the Epanchins’ villa. He
knew quite well that he was bound to find himself there at last,
and with a beating heart he went up to the steps of the veranda.
No one met him. The veranda was empty. He waited, and
opened the door into the room. "They never shut that door,”
the thought flickered through his mind, but the room was empty
too. It was almost dark in it.

447

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448 ■ questioned

him hurriedly and was in haste to speak, as though she were
being pursued.

"I’m going to-morrow as you told me. I won’t. . . . It's the
last rime I shall see you. The last time ! Now it’s absolutely the
last timel”

"Calm yourself, stand upl” he said in despair.

She looked greedily at liim, clutching at lus hands.

"Good-bye," she said at last, she got up and went quickly
away from him, almost running. Myshkin saw that Rogozhin
had suddenly appeared beside her, that he had taken her arm
and was leading her away.

"Wait a minute, prince,” cried Rogozhin, "ril be back in
five minutes.”

Five minutes later he did, in fact, return. Myshkin was wait-
ing for him at the same place.

"I’ve put her in the carriage,” he said. "It’s been waiting
tliere at Ae comer since ten o'clock. She knew }'ou'd be at the
young lady’s all the evening. I told her exactly what you wrote
to me to-day. She won’t write to the young lady again, she’s
promised; and she’ll go away from here to-morrow as you wish.
She wanted to see you for tlie last time, though you refused her.
We’ve been waiting for you here, on tliat seat there, to catch
you as you came back."

"Did she take you with her of her own accord?”

"Why not? ” grinned Rogozhin. "I saw what I knew before.

• You’ve read the letters, I suppose?”

"Have you really read them?” asked Myshkin, struck by
that idea.

"Rather 1 She showed me each one of them herself. About
the razor, too, do you remember, ha-ha 1”

"She's madl” cried Myshkin, wringing his hands.

"Who knows about that? Perhaps not,” Rogozhin said
softly, as though to himself. Myshkin did not answer.

"Well, good-bye,” said Rogozhin. "I’m going away to-
morrow, too: don’t remember evil against me! And I sav
brother,” he added, turning quickly, "why didn’t you answer
her question : are you happy or not?”

"No, no, nol” cried Myshkin, with unspeakable sadness.

"I should think not, indeed,” laughed Rogozhin malidousJv,
and he went away without looking back.

449

-t V

Yet the question remains! -Whai is an author to do with
ordinary people, absolutely "ordinary”, and how can he put
them before his readers so as to maJce them at aU interesting?
It is impossible to leave them out of fiction altogether, for
commonplace people are at every moment the chief and essential
links in the chain of human affairs; if we leave them out, we
lose all semblance of truth. To fill a novel completely with
types or, more simply, to make it interesting with strange and
incredible characters, would be to make it unreal and even
uninteresting. To our thinking a writer ought to seek out
interesting and instructive features even among commonplace
people. When, for instance, the very nature of some common-
place persons lies just in their perpetual and invariable common-
placeness, or better still, when, in spite of the most strenuous
efforts to escape from the daily round of commonplaceness and
routine, they end by being left invariably for ever chained to the
same routine, such people acquire a typical character of then-
own — the character of a commonplaceness desirous above all
things of being independent and original without the faintest
possibility of becoming so.

To this class of "commonplace” or "ordinary” people belong
certain persons of my tale, who have hitherto, I must confess,
been insufficiently explained to the reader. Such were Varvara
Ardalionovna Ptits3m, her husband, Mr. Ptitsyn, and her
brother, Gavril Ardalionovitch. >

There is, indeed, nothing more annoying than to be, for
instance, wealthy, of good family, nice-looking, fairly intelligent,
and even good-natured, and yet to have no talents, no special
faculty, no peculiarity even, not one idea of one’s own, to be
precisely "like other people”. To have a fortune, but not the
wealth of Rothschild; to be of an honourable family, but one
which has never distinguished itself in any way; to have a
pleasing appearance expressive of nothing in particular; to have
a decent education, but to have no idea what use to make of it;
to have intelligence, but no ideas of one’s own; to have a good
heart, but without any greatness of soul; and so on and so on.
There is an extraordinary multitude of such people in the world,
far more than appears. They may, like ^ other people, be
divided into two classes: some of limited intelligence; others
much cleverer. The first are happier. Nothing is easier for
"ordinary” people of limited intelligence than to imagine them-
selves exceptional and original and to revel in that delusion
without the sh'ghtest misgiving. Some of our young ladies have

451

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tragically. Their liver is apt to be affected in their declining
years, that’s all. But before giving in and humbling themselves,
such men sometimes play the fool for years, all from the desire
of originaHly. There are strange instances of it, indeed; an
honest man is sometimes, for the sake of being original, ready- to
do something base. It sometimes happens that one of these luck-
less men is not only honest but good, is the guardian angel of
his family, maintains by his labour outsiders as well as his own
kindred, and yet can never be at rest all his life! The thought
that he has so well fulfilled his duties is no comfort or consola-
tion to him; on the contrary, it irritates him. "This is what I’ve
wasted all my life on,” he says; "this is what has fettered me,
hand and foot; this is what has hindered me from doing some-
thing great ! Had it not been for this, I should certainly have
discovered — gunpowder or America, I don’t know precisely
what, but I would certainly have discovered it!” What is most
characteristic of these genUemen is that they can never find out
for certain what it is that they are destined to discover and what
they are wtliin an ace of discovering. But their sufferings, their
longings for what was to be discovered, would have sufficed for
a Columbus or a Gahleo.

Gavril Ardalionovitch had taken the first step on tliat road,
but he was only at its beginning; he had many years of playing
the fool before him. A profound and continual consciousness
of his own lack of talent, and at the same time the overwhelm-
ing desire to prove to himself that he was a man of great in-
dependence, had rankled in his heart almost from Ms boyhood
up. He vas a young man of violent and envious cravings, who
seemed to have been positively bom uith Ms nerves over-
wrought. The violence of his desires he took for strength. His
passionate craving to distinguish himself sometimes led him to
the brink of most iU-considered actions, but our hero was always
at' the last moment too sensible to take the final plunge. That '
drove Mm to despair. He could perhaps have made up Ms mind
to anything extremely base to attain what he dreamed of. But
as fate would have it, he always turned out to be too honest for
any great meanness. (Small meannesses he was, however, pre-
pared for.) He looked with loathing and hatred on the downfall
and poverty of his family. He treated even his mother haughtily
and contemptuously, though he knew perfectly well that his
mother’s reputation and character were the pivot on wMch his
future rested. »

When he entered General Epanchin’s house he said to Mmself

453

at once: “Since I must be mean, let me be so thoroughly, if only
I win my game”. — and was scarcely ever thoroughly mean. And
why should he imagine that he would certainly need to be mean?
Of Aglaia he was simply frightened at the time, but he kept on
with her on the off-chance, though he never seriously believed
that she would stoop to him. iiterwards, at the time of his
affair with Nastasya Filippovna, he suddenly imagined that
money would be the means of attaining everything. ' ‘If I must
be mean, well then I will,” he repeated to himself every day
with satisfaction, but with a certain dismay. "If one must be
mean, let us be first-rate at it,” he urged himself continually.
"Commonplace people are afraid to be, but I am not.”

Losing Aglaia and crushed by circumstances, he completely
lost heart, and actually brought Myshkin the money flung him
by a mad woman to whom it had been given by a madman.
A thousand times afterwards he regretted having returned that
money, though he was continually priding himself upon it. He
did actually shed tears for three days while Myshkin was in
Petersburg: but in those three daja he grew to hate the prince
because the latter looked at him too compassionately, though
"not everyone would have had the strength" for such a deed
as returning that money. But the frank confession to himself
that his misery was due to nothing but the continual mortifica-
tion of his vanity distressed him horribly.

Only long afterwards he saw and realised what a different end-
ing an affair with such a strange and innocent creature as Aglaia
might have had. He was consumed by regrets; he threw up his
post and sank into despondency and dejection. He lived with
his father and mother in Ptitsyn’s house and at the latter's ex-
pense, and openly despised Ptitsyn, although he followed his
advice and had toe sense always to ask it. Gavril Ardah’ono-
vitch was angry, for instance, with Ptitsyn for not aiming at
becoming a Rothschild. "If you go in for usury, do it
thoroughly — squeeze people, coin money out of them, show will-
power, be a king among the Jews."

Ptitsyn was unassmning and quiet; he did nothing but smile.
But once he thought it necessary to have a serious explanation
with Ganya, and he carried out the task with a certain degree of
dignity.' He had proved to Ganya that he was doing nothing
dishonest and that he had no right to call him a grasping Jew;
that it was not his fault that money was so valuable; toat he
was acting_ honestly and justly, and toat in reality he was only
an intermediary in these affairs, and toat finally, thanks to his

454

accuracy in business, he was already favourably known to first-
rate people and his business was increasing. "I shall never be
a Rothschild, and I don’t want to be," he said, smiling; "but I
shall have a house in Liteyny, perhaps two even, and there I
shall stop.” "And who knows, perhaps even three," he thought
to himself, but he never uttered this aloud, he concealed that
day-dream.

Nature loves such people and is kind to them; she will reward
Ptitsyn not with three but with four houses, and just because he
has realised from childhood that he will never become a Roths-
child. But bejmnd four houses nature will not go, and Ptits 3 m’s
success will end there.

Gavril Ardalionovitch’s sister was quite a different person.
She too was possessed with strong desires, but they were rather
persistent than impulsive. She had plenty of common sense in
emergencies, and was not devoid of it indeed in everyday life.
It is Sue that she also was one of the ordinary people who dream
of being original; yet she very soon found out that she had no
particular origin^ity, and did not take it too much to heart,
perhaps — ^who knows? — ^from pride of a sort. She took her first
practical step with great decision in marrying Ptitsyn. But in
getting married she did not say to herself : "If I must be mean,
I will be mean so long as I gain my end," as her brother Ganya
would certainly have said to himself, and may possibly have
said aloud to her, when he gave his approval as elder brother to
the match. Quite the contrary, in fact : Varvara Ardaliohovna
married after having convinced herself that her future husband
was a pleasant, unassuming, almost educated man, who could
never be induced to do anything very dishonourable. As for
minor acts of meanness, Varvara Ardalionovna did not worry
about such trifles; and, in fact, one can find such trifles every-
where. It's no good looking for an ideal being! She knew,
besides, that by marrying ^e would provide a refuge for her
mother, her father and her brothers. Seeing her brother in
trouble, she wanted to help him in spite of ^1 their previous
misunderstandings.

Ptitsyn sometimes urged Ganya, in a friendly way, of course,
to take another post. "You despise gener^ and being a
general,” he would say to him sometimes in joke; "but mind,
‘they’ will all finish by being generals; if you live long enough
you will see." "But what makes them think that 1 despise
generals and being a general? " Ganya thought ironically to him-
self.

455

"The usual story indcedl” cried Ganya. "The usual storyl
No ! The devil only knows what is happening here, it’s not the
same as usual. The old man is getting perfectly fcintic. . . .
Mother’s in a flood of tears. Upon my word, Varya, I’ll turn him
out, say what you like, or ... or I’ll go away myself,’’ he
added, probably recollecting that it was not possible to turn
anyone out of another person’s house.

"You must make allowances," murmured Varya.

"What allowances? For whom?” cried Ganya, firing up.
"For his filthy habits? No, you may say what you like, that’s
impossible. Impossible, impossible, impossible! And what a
way to behave; he is in fault, and it makes him all the more
stuck up. 'The gate is not good enough for him, we must pull
the wall down!’ Why are you sitting there like that? You
don't look yourself."

"I look as I always do,” Varya answered with displeasure.

Ganya looked at her more carefully.

"Have you been there?” he asked suddenly.

"Yes.”

"Stay, shouting again. What a disgrace, and at such a time
too!”

"What sort of time? It’s no such special time.”

Ganya looked more intently than ever at his sister.

"Have you found out something more?” he asked.

"Nothing unexpected, anyway. I found out that it’s all a
fact. My husband was nearer the truth than either of us; it’s
turned out just as he predicted from the beginning. Where is
he?”

"Not at home? What's turned out?”

"The prince is formally betrothed to her. The thing is settled.
The elder girls told me. Aglaia consents: they have even left
off keeping it dark. (There’s always been so much mystery tiU
now.) Adelaida’s wedding will be put off again so that the two
wedefings may be on one day. Such a romantic notion 1 Quite
poetical ! You’d better be writing a poem for the occasion than
running about the room to no purpose. Princess Byelokonsky
will be there this evening; she's come in the nick of time; there
are to be visitors. He is to be presented to the Princess
Byelokonsky, though she knows him already. I believe the
engagement will be publicly announced. They are only afraid
he may let something drop or break something when he walks
into the drawing-room, or else flop down himself; it’s quite in
bis line.” '

aw

‘‘“Mtivclv I

.''f»il's U.?4Vr« clear, •■ le'ST'f « oj j >“• »med ,„

“« ™eh“‘"’* f4° S am '■"',? ^>™ge''aSr'f' * "“SH.

a “'® “P ccd doS'if"^

“&'■ fUd Va"™SJ'™ ‘akei,a,..„

annovii^„J y®. served off vour

, . „ as to hide .her day, ior he

"And then he wiU g did he . • •

■•What! Surely '”“„“ui *»>* “^„o„Wd »“,:

Ganya. u'^coniefrom*erel H Has he, or not?

heavensl the old man been *ere ^nn and

thing about It? tias u Vaiya

«Tf vou let him out now,

will go to eveiyoue. ^y^at did hadn’t under-

‘•Wat did he me themselvK, th^y^^. see I'^

“■Well, they <:^l^ htened them aU. H ^^^aveta Proho-
stood if, he ong ^6^ He f to

Fyodorovit*, h tout of my husband,

SS4^.»ucore^SS'o,ls^; ,„>,edug

y-Sfrcofcu-; saying Hre-

"ySS’eouM |S'„“?reS Va,!- «*

seh;andl«rha^^Vadandranto ^

'•waifS^s'^SsSs-KS'

father one of tuese

awfully \on? Not in dension? -

“Not m densioni

of all her romantic notions. It’s all up to a certain point, and
everyone draws the line somewhere. You are all alike.”

‘‘Aglaia would be a coward?” Varya fired up, looking con-
temptuously at her brother. ‘‘You’ve got a mean little soul!
You are a worthless lot. She may be absurd and eccentric, but
she is a thousand limes more generous than any of us.”

"Well, never mind, never mind, don’t be cross,” Ganw mur-
mured again complacently.

"I am so)^ for mother, that’s all,” Varya went on. "I am
so afraid this scandal about father may reach her ears. Achl
1 am afraid it willl”

"No doubt it has reached her,” observed Gan3^a.

Varya had risen to go upstairs to Nina Alexandrovna, but,
stopping short, she looked attentively at her brother.

"Who could have told her?”

"Ippolit, most likely. It would have been the greatest satis-
faction to him to report the matter to mother as soon as he
moved here, I expect.”

"But how does he know? Tell me that, pray. The prince
and Lebedyev made up their minds to tell nobody; Kolya knows
nothing.”

"Ippolit? He found it out for himself. You can’t imagine
what a sly beast he is; what a gossip he is; how quick he is at
sniffing out an3rihing bad, any sort of scandal. You may not
believe it, but I am sure he has succeeded in getting a hold on
Aglaia; and if he hasn’t, he will. Rogozhin has got to know
him too. How is it the prince does not notice it? And how
eager he is to score off me nowl He looks upon me as his per-
sonal enemy, I’ve seen that a long time — ^why and with what
object, since he is dying, I can't make out. But I’ll get the
better of him. You will see that Til score off him, not he off
me!”

“What made you, then, entice him here, if you hate him so?
And is he worth scoring off?”

"You advised me to entice him here.”

"I thought he would be of use. But do you know that he
has fallen in love with Aglaia himself now, and has been writing
to her? They asked me about him. ... He may even have
written to Lizaveta Prokofycvna.”

"He is not dangerous in that way,” said Ganya, with a spite-
ful laugh, "but most likelj' you are mistaken. It’s very possible
he is in love, for he is a boy. But ... he wouldn’t ^te
anonymous letters to the old lady. He is such a spiteful, in-

461

^e. He suddenly told ^ it wa^ s widow,

?°tlu-n^ ^t rreJTn^^^

face will a soV r °*^food it all apronn

32; yt’ii‘'S‘^.'>tai” G„,„ ._■ '

; “‘6^1 t^t lie

"I "dJn^al^b- ■ " two days^'""""

sS'^^T- "^'ell, ^’jf. ^^pise himl" r
^ct\tnTie^T-‘^S'^^a^ tf^en.

iSenlS’S^? yo^’d rSi b-

S.5y“ ?o“r S: isr^:£?srss.‘ SV^t^S

crrV.1 I>e, realJv? t 5“^ what's th.fjP^y everyone out

‘^ed t^-^'l^' really?' f ^ ThaP^J

, the noise w=c • f°? This

5 _^T op^n comin.

-- qur-chlv c • " ^ - •

and berif?^ open, and old nearer thp ^

old ti^self u'lth S’Q' wrathful ’,. ■ was sud-

•“ ipAr «»«i by 's

™*-Koiyaa„(,,35,^j

y^»-.. .

Tx ^ffAPTEH II

friends, Gavril Ardalionovitch, who had been so antagonistic
to Ippolit on tliat evening, came of himself three days after-
wards, however, to see him, probably moved to do so by some
sudden idea. Rogozhin, too, for some reason, took to visiting
the invalid. It seemed to Myshkin at first that it would be better
for the "poor boy” liimself if he were to move out of his
(Myshkin’s) house. But at the time of his removal Ippolit
observed that he was going to stay with Ptitsyn, “who was so
kind as to give him a comer”, and, as tho^h purposely, he
never once put it that he was going to stay with Ganya, though
it was Ganya who had insisted on his being received into the
house. Ganya noticed it at the time, and it rankled in his heart.

He was right w'hen he told his sister that the invalid was
better. Ippolit was somewhat better than before, and the im-
provement was evident at the first glance. He came into the
room after everyone else, with a sarcastic and malignant smile
on his face. Nina Alexandrovna came in, very much frightened.
She was thinner and had greatly changed during the last six
months; since she had moved to her daughter's house on the
latter’s marriage, slie had almost given up outwardly taking any
part in her children’s affairs. Kolya was worried and seemed
puzzled; there was a great deal he did not imderstand in the
“general’s madness”, as he expressed it, being, of course, un-
aware of the reasons of this last upset in the house. But it was
clear to him that his father was quarrelling everywhere and all
day long, and had suddenly so changed that he was not like
the same man. It made him uneasy, too, to see that the old
man had, for the last three days, entirely given up drinking.
He knew that his father had fallen out and even quarrelled witii
Lebedyev and Myshkin. Kolya had just returned home with a
pint bottle of vodka, paid for out' of his own pocket.

"Really, mother," he had assured Nina Alexandrovna up-
stairs, “really it's better to let him drink. It's three da5rs since
he touched a drop, he must be feeling wretched. It's really
better; I used to t^e it him to the prison.”

The general flung the door wide open, and stood in the door-
way, seeming to quiver with indignation.

“Sirl ” he shouted in a voice of thuiider to Ptitsyn. "If you
have really decided to sacrifice to a/milksop and an atheist a
venerable old man, your father, that is, at least, the father of
your wife, who has served his sover^gn, I will never set my foot
within your doors from this hour. /Choose, sir, choose at once;
it’s either me or that . . . screw!/ Yes, a screw! Isaiditwoth^

463

Oiinkinp h,,f h •

<■ |.S,r a 0„a,> ,,

“ncJeiioHe ‘^^eafen/ng/- p Ptitsyn,

-a'^r,” "?•>'■■ 3ho„w ,„ “'■" '“ ’■“ -•” ™

'''as loaded Zi,\^Ppcr.sT,nnn ° ^'"^‘ave in ZC-^^ mv

‘°ra in hvn ioaouR fiat beW Let mo

^ad xvhyij^^!^ ?oafitiing °nJy an”"^ ^

‘=''aa tomvm^ I’rouffht vn^ of sLfT "’7'°“^ man,

, '■Ok. Kv?'™.“"'" ® ^°“ ' nS* ;?a i„fi*„^,

you didn't D„f^’ ^°“'''e got im ^

better.” ^at us to shnm ^^atragedv/” •

...I’crS!; lP«y.a «T.hZ

■^ou St °"°'utch coSld not

464 ^ angrily.

■>” <1inndered the general, turning pale and
' “What do you say? tliunderea me b

‘“';i“TUfSe7o^’ op”

““^4loo“d SStoo “““-'O’

ais yoo o'ooo*'" 0"“* Alexandrovna,

rushing to restrain her son. „ snapped out m

“'^^Only fox naota’s aaUa, I spare hin,;' Ganya brought out

%1g;r roarodthegcuorattnaper^

on pain of your father s vour curse 1 And whose

‘■As though I were ^ madman for the last eight

fault is it that you’ve been hte a Zoning. Mind you don t
diw? Eicht days, you see I Whv did you go

drwe me too far. I’H ^^'l:‘l's^'^vesterday? And you call your-
SfTflfn.7“'‘g^y7Jr.d, urc father of a iarullyl He s a

‘’'^iThrup! GanyaP;

"But how have I, how ^^7® . "Why did he call

sisted, but still i" He wme pestering me; he was

« e/ofow vnii heard hini. Trfrv-n^rpcrov. I don t

here just now, general, I’ve always avoiu^

desire vour company at all, i® . . do with Captain Eropye-

Low yourself. I have nothing Jre of Caplam

Sv, you admit. I di^’t come here tor

lrop?egov I ^toply Se Sated. He raised the

Eropyegov may possibly never

certainly never has egf;;S S.O>lauhly
But the general stood lootang ^ him by their exto-

about him. His son’s he could not even find

ordinary openness. *®4en Ippolit burst out laughing m
words. And at last, only_ when P.^here, did you he^. your
response to Ganya and cned out. Ihe^^. ^3 Captam

ONvn son, too, says thwe w^ed, completely aisconcerted .
Eropyegov.’’ the old "^an mutt^ea^^ ^ P _ Kapiton . ■ the
"Kapiton Eropyegov, ^P ^ , . . Kapiton.

retired Lieutenant-Colonel Eropyegov

fl, Canva

liis wijfe ff '' mattered fte
offj" py2fjace. general, and a

gXT" repress f.

Eropyegovi- ■ ®“‘* 'pe4n’^a^°°f^^°® I. .^'°“’0h

• T' ^^e's E, M ^^“P^'-gov Eroshka
^ "^pitoSf before he was TT ■

I screws*® of tie coinSe ! ‘ ’

EropyegovI \r' * -^^ed. 2 ^q his saJce*/

Duf , Mattered f be waTch ^0“ted wiiW vet

siouted. ~"S«e'»-s®aL ",°® 'MuJtmr iSl' ,<? '<»U5e, iave

A j-

gone out oi liis mind. instantly controlled hunself .

^ IppoUt too felt a papa has gone out

••1 don’t quite agree “ -on the contrary, it s^s

ot his mind.” he answered ^ ^^Uy; don’t you tlui^

Jimcthathcbashadmorc^eonate^^^^^^^^^ 5oto

so? He has become so ca“‘*°" ' ^ talking to me about

cveyttog. only tocy, he

that Kapitoshka wUi an object, jo

wanted to lead me on to ... to lead you on

“Aic. what the devil do ^ Codecs on me. sir,” shneked

to? 1 beg you not to trj' °1 cau^c why tlie old man

Ganv'a. ’’If you. loo, know te five days

is in such a stale (and you ve ton SP>^ P . ou ought not to
to such a degree that y°« and ^’orried my mother

have irritated . . • tlic jj's all nonsense,

by exaggerating the t proved either, and 1 don t

drunken Ircak, notlung more, n t P ^tmg and spy

think it’s worUi a Uiought . . ,. hui y
because you . , • you arc ...

•‘A screw 1” laughed lPP^.|“: ^turc, because you worned

"Because you are an frighten them by shooting

people for half an Sing such a shameful

yourself with an unloaded P 'moss of jaundiced spile, wh
Lhibition of yourscU. you ^f«^Sng a mess of it! I
can’t even commit suicide wit you’ve left off cough

given you hospitality, you ye grown > .

ing, and you repay it • * •. .» _ Varvara Ardahonovn

"Allow me, two words ?"^’.Jj^dced that you
house, not yours, and I imag pour daj-s ago I bcgg“

cnioving the hospitality of Mr. ^ Pavlovsk and to mov

last night. Excuse me, I mterrup

ippoM.

"If that’s so, allow me to sit do^, general

himseU with perfect composure m tne cu^

4&7

■^3'd been 5*fH

Pwhai4° ‘“T- I'm

°"V»a b,o,v."‘‘'^‘^' You'U only

G?v3°£i pta Sylo?!"'^ «P SerX; ■>“■« at I,

y»aS'S''"P«‘k- you„ ““"“P'aaaalr, m'lhonl

Wed to ..„a_ ® unfair. r„ ?^°?.9^ed \vifh^crpr>R’

. “^'-^Ptinp’ v/^n^ j .•

"I told you: he's a scandal-monger and a nasty schoolboy,”
said Ganj-a.

"Allow me, Varvara Ardalionovna, I’ll go on. The prince,
o£ course, I can neither like nor respect; but he is certainly a
kind man, though . , . rather ridiculous. But I’ve certainly no
reason to hate him; I didn’t let on when your brother tried to
set me a^inst the prince; I was looking for^vard to having
laugh at him afterwards. I knew that your brother would make
a blunder and give himself away to mo shockingly. And so it
has turned out ... I am ready to spare him now, simply out
of respect for j'ou, Varvara ArdaJionovna. But since I have
made it clear that it is not so easy to catch me. I’ll explain why
I was so anxious to make your brother look a fool. You must
know that I’ve done it because I hate him, I confess it openly.
When I die (for I am dying even if 1 have grown fatter, as you
say), when 1 die, I feel I shall go to paradise with my heart in-
comparably more at ease if I succeed in making a fool of one
at least of the class of people who have persecuted me all my
life, whom I have hated all my life, and of which 3'our excellent
brother is a conspicuous example. I hate you, Gavril Ardaliono-
vitch, simply because — tliis will perhaps seem marvellous to you
— simply because yon arc tire type, tire incamarion, the acme
of the most insolent and self-satisfied, the most vulgar and loath-
some commonplaccncss. Yours is the commonplaceness of pom-
posity, of self-satisfaction and Olympian serenity. You are the
most ordinary of the ordinary! Not the smallest idea of your
own %vill ever take slrapc in your heart or j'our mind. But you
are infinitety envious; you arc firmly persuaded that you are
great genius; but j’ct doubt docs visit you sometimes at black
moments, and j'ou grow spitcfxrl and cn\ious. Oh, there are
still black spots on your horizon; they will pass when you be-
come quite stupid, and that's not far off; but a long and
chequered path lies before you; I can’t call it a cheerful one and
I’m glad of it. In the first place I predict tliat j’ou won’t gain
a certain lady . .

"Oh, this is unbearable I" cried Varya. "Will you leave off,
you horrid, spiteful creature?"

Ganya turned wliite, quivered and kept silent. Ippolit
stopped, looked intently and rvith relish at him, turned his
eyes to Vaij’a, bowed and went out, %vithout adding anotlier
word.

Gavril Ardalionovitch might with justice have complained of
his lot and of his ill-success. For some time Varya did not ven-

469

i n'? \“S3fan liis '««ced

.p is S.i.''S

’■& wssfr"*"* i," ct ‘'’' ° '’'” °' '“f'

seven UnesV’t^l^P'^S her hands,
r .Gavrii^^. ,,. ‘denote;

‘ A ' “■ “”v^«

''="0<i teav™ '“'"panyyou, t„„;„

°?f«'“jrpp£.Th'»ffls!.„w„

^ 1 "Not a shadow of a scandal 1 Go, ask

nurried and alatrocd. Not a sn

r S'folips S"s; sho W0«><1 »“» «n alto tarn,

Ptitsvn held her back. . . „ jjg g^id to her. He

"ySu only b°biit back again in half an hour.

Shouted

fromYc^i?dow neighbours will

"Come back, father I cnc a

f nrvd turned round, stretched out his hand.
The general stopped, turnea

''.'HrS°”.^to”;toa«cal tonal” mutoroa Ganya,
'■“Sn^r.htroSiSnty^Sc zoning. Vanya tan on. ot

“’ItSorVatya h.a gone o« pSttel

table, kissed it, gave a click

round.

CHAPTER IH

'T'HE scene wth the general "^sudden out-

TuSirin oUicr circumstanc^- H® ^ugh often; for.
bursts of temper of fte same ki^ ^f^^.^mperld man. and of a

generally speaking, he was a vetyg^ perhaps he ha

rather kindly disp^hom A h “ ^ed the ^astety
struggled against the bad hatn^^tn^^^^y temembe^at^he

:LXt?iTaTamUy.

fSgs did^ot usually l^t ^ )|s own pecular fa^i°“;,
too "impulsive’’ empty mode of hfe as ^P jjj

He could not stand for long “S P mto a par°’^X

in his family and ended by revoltog^ inwardly reproaching
of excitement, for which, perhaps, ne

foment h

“'"Wm« S“‘andliS',f, '"ft Ih^Zj riehnali

"’"?'?nd "“''“■‘at E "■« '° * sf. "“' “"

^'''^■anc^rovW P^^sen<ed <o speA A of

.““O'. With P^eviouo >• oefore h,,^ ^^^toNim

frrif=K:,. 5 ‘^appearon' ^umb/e and

. ' out. on

00 ail '^oe 6^ h, family ll Scner.
'vitb nio I f’^o^Jous ", oefore, b,,. •^' ^t^toNini

“'SJa ™bjKtsX“/S»

iSfe'"®- oA'?*"'-'

tioriow "'^^out bpm ^^^f’ooded fo f '^'^'^'^oly brpaA o;

or that ho t s oonsaW ?^'^er quasH and cease

""d i;:?" tS be 3 vacant

aod^^ *ad fuww Pren^-^'^^^^d bT/^ ?/‘^V3ous u/g/if

“P ^-tb fal&f fon.S?A ^^androvna,

'Vbfcb o?/ {Oosf vJnZ°^^<^p; be cf^f.^^pos- To^rds

Perbary; diat th; ° offen.. ^^^-estpon, dwee days he

°^dSSl^^^hed^^ ^?l all due^' ^°^ya ™ade

sucJdenjT?^ fe’endJv «f ^ ^ ^viniy modier

^ ^ Srribf "^el£ Ct "^t^^oezaJbaVb"

'V'tb fuiy f-ebedve. dav^^ k become exfaa-

S' '° « S “«

' oonve^sado? ^i^j^O'ofcc-
1 472 bad taken

) 0 -

on

--, and
did not
correct-
" place

,ctwecn Ippolit and Nina openly a "sctmdal-

his spiteful initiating Kolya into the

nonger”, had not found ^ahsfa^tion m

jecret in the same way. It Ganya had described

,!uch a maliaous and nasty I? malicious in a d^erent

;iim in speaking informed Nina Alexandrovna

nvay. And he could oj-der “to break her heart •

ol what he had ohsewed simply m orue^^^

Don’t let us forget that the caus^ f^^^

:immeasurably more an mrcly be distinctly defmed^

.'explanations of them. And th<»e y confine himself

:Tfe best course for the s^^ the line we vnll

to a simple narrative of event . present catastrophe wath

.adopt in Uie rest of our account .gP^^goiutely inevitable we
■ the general: for, do what wo Y* attention than we ha
'should bestow rather nj°^^P^on of secondary importance m
oririnally proposed on tins persoi ^

our story. succeeded one another in the fo owing

These events had succecot-u

°^mcn Lebedyev on die FeSyshtchenko, he told

from his visit to P<^te«bu^;° had ppt.been at

I^Iyshkin nothing impress'ons of ^t

time too busy imd ^oon have "oheed that dunng

importance to him, he from giving him a/'Y . ,

the two following days Lebcdy^. ^o avoid

of explanaUon, Iwn didat last turn his attenhon

meeting him. When ^Y^^^Siat he conld.not remem^r
to the subject, he 'Y^f^/S^met Lebedyev m any but ^
during those three almost always m comP^^Y

most blissful state of mind, ana moment. Mysn^

Se gS. They were never ap^^o^r

TglTd^p"' 1 ° i'tott

animated, and from ^ tlie friends were embracing one
another, end one «* g® £ Jasrf rS

generally xjot nt h

the street^T^" i>y, emfe 2^o“t

just th7 P^'^ed." vviien ™‘'»^e^ea^ off.

‘=ve:y^S °bse?^S

mastacss. "’'• «-ld no '!“i<0 nnabS

S%"»^ <<.= Ba ' :

"■n^'Tcavr'''’® d-o Ba r” ” °‘ '* “

aJniost ovenvhM SunenU ^ he was

‘‘=BonoS;S*"e:

"4at h • ' • «»o iulfiS" °^P°rtunity con-

he ianded ^^foncerteH t.t_

Wofflaayp^. . ,.

“Net^* • ' fussed, or S ^ *“ ^ Position

if-sr^s. rr ■"■"«' I .a J

whe?e1t°^?^“’^ . , them, '^aS?T^°'“'^ your most

®^ut anntl* ''"^ted. uose ' „ ^ tnow what it is

fflatw matter e^ 7 ^.the sayiag is .

.«£““■■' “Pono^f Me T®- ™

iimseif ®oia beppna l- ' ^ noporianf

T ““?d. . . . J , “d «t doa,

““PrcTOm?*“'“*°*SiSS' “?? “ 'S' S?.' *?

^■tfe and the Russian^

J’our advk/'^^^^ in a nn •£ to nJa,!f^ “ ^ is so
%slSn u ^ • ■ if fa . and my

"nffldp appbiaj V . ' ‘’™“’ d

“'d las Mteap.

474

-well, ibaf s bb

"that’s not what Sq to youfLyov Nikolaye-

important. JJSJerity whose heart and tlie nobihty

’'”,5^E‘oS"l£S:“if:J’ot euepriee. at .»s.

times, his hands seemed ^ ^jjd had twice already

only remained a few ^ reason, and sat down again,

got up from his chair for ^ , „ttmition to what he was

obvioW not paymg ^

domg. There were books page, shut it again at

and still talking, glanced the open P B another book
once, and laid it back on the table P^f the time in

which he did not open, and held it ^

his right hand, ™ng it contmuaUy i th^ ^ ^een
"Enough I” he shouted suddenly.

disturbing you shockingly. Quite the contrary. I’m

"Oh, not in the least, please go on. yuire m

listening and trying to • * * . j j. jnyself a position of

421”“' -0 • ■ • “y

4 ammatcd by s.ch a deabe is d«,ma6 of r..p=ot. d

only on that ground.’’ ,nr.r>wViook phrase in the firm

The prince brought out his PJ^g^gnt ^effect. He guessed

conviction that it would agreeable phrase uttered

instinctively that some -.gdiately^ave an irresistible

at the right moment of such a man, espeaally

and soothing influence on the ,,,^5 necessary

ioSfdS?vaor“Sfly -a a ligbtes boar., and U>at™s
«a«-d and toucbe^d

Ivolgin: he suddenly melted, But, howwer

went ofi into a long, enthusiastic ^^yterally nothing of it.
intently M 5 rshkin listened, he c v^tedly, rapidly, as thou^
Tlie general talked for ten mm • ^g^^ts quickly enough,
he could not get out his cto% f „^Tds the end, yet it was
Tears positively shone t^^^ning or end, unexpected

nothing but sentences without begmruue

475

to master thF ^-^^Pathv ^ hope J a ,

•5? Ki-" ' aSf

f^PoUn^r Thei^” ioi/’ '

it to be Tbat^j ‘"““versatioQ Too

"’onjent for us^q ^ ™y ^ of

plentv nf ^ chance con^fl! ^ ^^terrunte/^f ^ ”ot
to Myshkin impudent ^"’Pudent f^ii ^ sacred

^•his^r a stian "5.J"ows.- He bJJ i^°^' there

yonrVh^e, SS.^’P^denf ^«T?^>^*^rious, anf^JJ°^. suddenly

a^„ fCit-resnerf *_ '■' ‘ ^wer to

. • -ft became dear to liim that everyone

Myslikin wnced again. that everyone

had suddenly begun to to Congratulate him with

looked at him, as ,, u^d run in two or three times

hints, smiles and winks. I evident desire to congr^u-

tor a minute already, also , and enthusiastically but

late him: each Umc (He had been

did not finish, and Y. ^ oMate, and making a sensation

drinking particularly heavily oi wic,

in some billiard-room.) „„ jnf.ee had also attempted once

Even Kolya,,in spite of his sadn^fto^^^^ ^

or twice to begin upon some 1^^^ somewhat

Myshkin asked L^edye , . ^tatc of mind, and why
what he tliought of General 6, ^ he told him of the

the latter seemed so uneasy. In a lew w

scene that morning. ^mons for uneasiness, prince . . ■

**Evervone Ii3-S o^vn rc* iineasv3-S^i you know,

a»d especially in cur e«"f? “““'k'nl VSap^d into

Lebedyev answered wiUi a ^crtai ^ deceived m his

offended silence, ivith the air of a man ^

'^^”What°philosophyl’’ saW^^ SSin our age in its

"Philosophy would be useful, ^ that’s how it is. For my

practical application, but ‘*^ ®h?have respected your

part, honoured prince, \teve ^ certain

to me on a certain point you ^h ^

complain.” . hg angry about something? .

"Lebedyev, you seem to be an^ resplendent prince

"Not at all not in ,\he least, honoured

not in the least!” hohedyev cne p once that

te heart, ;0" by the q»f

neither by -ly .mount ol nty j ”m\b° Mn-

mind or mv heart, nor i aeserv e

behaviour, nor my hnn'^^'^f.^Tine “^o far above my hopes, and
fidence with which you ho hireling. Nothing

that if I can serve you it

unvrirthy ol y«“ i may Kccive at the fitting time, before
of yont house perhaps ,

T • • • '-cuaui chancro,. at leas

uttered this t-k ^ ^ expected in tb,

ar^1.?Sg| 4

Jnent.

f®§er, ”and “ "'ord J " cWpsTifr eunositv.

ssfli

Se‘% “»° mil™®'-'’ '""> nS b° ,*? J'““. IMgrao

Poa-bvS, A"tf™PK?lyCS aT?“ 5« «psS‘’f„^L£":

7 aanatned an^ at this va,, som

satisfy you with- bnf T ‘^“"seience-strirt ^ “’oment, that
^?j^sy Ma,.-.‘’“' I a»e„ ImJ'& a* having nott

StV ‘"u?“' -SaM. ™ ^

PaSn off^ ^3^ con^tinuS bad .T'

tAA*^.?ff> not hAAA,7.°°"^y putting almost made an

ni off. ■R„f sg-.-i,! •_

enemy nfu-” ^Uy^erT^ and wiivTf'^’ at thf
PaSn off^ ^3^ con^tinuS had .T’ “ ^ome

ject o?^h°®' aot because hA^-^ Pitting him "’ade an

few dav^^ ^""'esify w5 ^%^^P«ed Myshkin

while looked on ^“^^^eate one ’ Afv the sub-

pS of TimofewS ^ own °^^3^ a

aveSS? %shkin?rAK a crime,

^ own ft jealous not onlv distrust simply as a

PerhaS ‘J^^iter, Vem"V^ Kofya and

&«e2?;A“? <oM Kbgr™ at b t ,

So^3 »'«"S no, oX” “i “aSM X?j"fa aimply „ ,
ParliS t”®'”''' ES“°'>-aa„d'„7S^'a, CM<o tte

remSi° and pS^" ? Piece of be could.

“In wh^°°®'^3' siJent aS desired te°d greatest

?”3^''ay can I be of use to°?

^r“--4tl"-^boutthen '

478 ° parti The money.

tie money, the four in ^ e morn-

P?";™ seS'So/petemhnrg. Do you untoland
at last?” , . n fouj hundred roubles!

“a^iy?S ifSt J

M'soSme .nee.'

‘■Found it! Ah, thank God! for four

“That exclamation is J^“/Jor a poor man who lives by
hundred roubles is no ^all motherless children. • • •

his hard work, with a I am glad you found

“But I didn’t mean that! quicfly, “but how

the money," Myshkin corrected himseii q

did you find it?” , .yie chair on which my coat

“Very simply. ^/°'fi'^„ocSt-Sok must have slipped out
had been hung, so that toe poem

of the pocket on to tlie floor . . -^y you told me your-

“Under a chair? Ifs inij^^^ble! it you came to

self you had hunted m every cmn^. won

overlook the most obvious place. only too weU how

“I should think I did fg^the place with my hands,

I looked! I crawled on couldn’t trust my

moving back the chairs be place was as smooth

1 saw there was nothing there for ^ 1

empty as my hands, and y very anxious to fin X

see tot weimess in taportant has been lost A

thing, when ^y^'^J^nl^^ere, the place is empty, an y

man sees there’s nothing mere, , mi

before it wasn’t there, and you
then it suddenly to^f "^‘cned up.”

"And then it sod^^^X ^ nt Lebedyev.

Myshkin looked \sked suddenly. ,

“And the general? he „ Lebedyev seemed at a loss

'■mat about the general? •

fogemcr bcfom^ Bu. tot too, I cooloso, I

MWollyr " to Ml „e- V ,,

.ti- TS

CayJ^l!‘" ■• tas bc„ , . I^Wycv, „b.

^-^Snly/iLriV’^ "toto torTr'"

hesitaf^j®^^ Uic ron ^ know u’l .

uneasy ah^^' "'°uJd liav« ^ <Jie donr^'^' ^ ’"'®

but 'uddi^i*^^ pocket h ^ujethiny puipose; ■

“'■■cti ''f'oV^I? «"st .ss

‘he chair you did tak eveumg in

"liien l^^^'^hed from j ^^het-book from under

I,. "Oh now= chair that

'■r®.?bWH,-'$5M«iv„„ ,_ _ “''«toe„iEhl."

.. al?|fcf'aVS”?fctoech„>,^„

himself uX®' , cried Lch^ " ^ night."

fe„typ<?fcnly.

ThcSf ;°“i, /eel.-.l’’ '*»«. to (he ]arf„Jf"?>>'y at Wj^btii..

“*S a. a gf. «1 toa aoa, a,., . ‘ '”1' “»<• «“••

ID front, indeed been f„y^ ,, -

^ the most conc^ frnned into
480 °“"^’''^oous place.

into soine-
■"" audit

.a. clear at on» to fte '

“r^lun r/S and it ^ocks ag^nst n.y legs.

“And you take no notice of
• < T toVo nn notice of It. iie-i

nonce on yuui ^ c,i,fapn in one nignti x

then a hole like that. aU of a ^eone had cut it with

look at it more curiously, ^oug

a penknife. -Isn’t it almost mcredibler

“And ... the gener^? vestcrday and to-day: fcar-

"He's been angry all day, ?, , ^e^ing and hilanous

.-,1 1- At one time he d be oeeunu's to

tears, then suddenly angty, - s^e were sitting

really, for I’m not a t^p^aopet of my coat stood out

yesterday in the tavcm_, and ^^joniinent way; a perfect
as though by chance, at, „ .slv^d was angry. He hasn t

mountain. He looked at it on time, unless he s very

looked me straight in fh® h| gave me a look that

drank or sentimental; but y -oine To-morrow, though, I
made a shudder run doum my -P ^ ^ j,2^ye an evenings
mean to find the pocket-book, but 1

fun with him before then. ,, ^.^pgd Myshkin. ,,

"Why are you ® j, ^ot tormenting him,

"I’m not tormenting him^nncct jove and • . •

Lebedyev replied wth jt or not, he’s dearer

respect him; and now, wheth J j.g(.jate him even nioj®- , .
to me than ever. I have comedo ^PF^ sincerely that Myshkin

Lebedyev said all this so earnestly and SI

was positively indignant. a like this*. Why, by tne

"You love hiin and where it could be seen

very act of putting the lost p ^ ^ alone he shows y

under the c 4 ir and in your coat, by tnat
that he doesn’t ^vant to deceive ^u. b

simplicity asks your forgiven • delicacy of your feehngs,

yourfor^venessl So he rehes on Aiid yet you reduce

L he beUeves in your fn®°^^P ^ a most honest man !
to such humiUation a man hke ^a . Lebedyev a^ented.

"Most honest, prince, most ho es . tLe only

with sparkling eyes. "And you, most nobi p

481

* 1*1^0 it riM# l ^ '^^>K 4* * *- } Tii if r a A* it » » » .

'-•ntoud* ',n' ,T'T nv-^;. 1:;:''^ ^

<o-niorro«- t! ' if. t.-c-^V.: ,’F ** *'‘- IJ'rr*. 4

^Kr,L^ r,:?,.«s i ta,.-

T!

'HE i.o>.r fi , ,y

to- oE &''■'. to, ,,,^..

d4iSLJr- ‘•^w qtlffc HD-

"’aftinp Ar,^?' vcrv xrHn..^ ■ipund the rcncrai

J«sf the old man

gh his guest «-we he

^.Sa '^''"’adcofporceJain

and ho were aM ot ,>>.'‘£1 U5°S to feel ».

gS'nS

from what he had ^^jct^able, a visible and marked
incoherence, tliere Nvas an ^^.an who had taken an

reserr'e; it could . composure was more apparent

irrevocable decision. But ^ rtFsolaved a gentlemanly ease
than real. I" lenity. He even treated

of manner, though wth as proud people

Myshkin at first vntli an do behave wi^

who have been gratmtously m , , though with a certam
genUemanly case. He spoke affably, mouyx

aggrieved intonation. otlier day,” he

••Your book, which I ™ yoj ^ _ ,^hich was

said, nodding significantly at a took he had g
lying on tlie table. ^ thank you How did you

"Oh yes. Have you read &at artel delighted at

like it? It’s intcr^ting, isn t it? ^^T^^l^vant subject,
the chance of begmnmg to , j^j^d of course absurd.

"Interesting, perhaps, but crude, ana
Probably a he in ever}; sentim^. ^^jed lus words

The general spoke witii aplomb, and even
a little. an old

“Ah, it’s such ar
soldier who was an

. I. w.,' 4V1P storv of an old
. — an unp^tenbous stoj^ jn

soldier who was an eye-witn^ rharming. Besides, every
Moscow; some things m it isn’t it, whoever

account given by an eye-witness is precious,

. if* a?> for

he may be?” . o.„iri not have printed it; as for

"Had I been the editor, I ° neri, people are more

the descriptions of eye-Nvitness« g^e^ P ^ f

ready to believe crude hi^, w descriptions of the

worth who has seen se^ice. I determination, prince, 1

year 1812 which . . . I of S Lebedyev.”

L leaving thp, hou^ ,

a leaving this house . . .• , . -Mvshkin.

The general looked significantly at 1 > at . • • at your
"You have your own rooms at fav ^

daughter’s . . /’ said Myshkin, not knowng^^ ^

He remembered that the which his fate depended,

about a most important matter, home in my daughter s

"At my ^vife’s; in otlier words, at Home,

house.” ,, . K -

“I beg your pardon. I • • • up^use. dear prince, oe-
"I arS leaving Lebedyev’s house because.

,(R3

prince, the^oa^ riS'sS^^ "i’"' PerfiS I

”°t for (he of canH^®. tije drint =.) '''^eping

^at allure?® o^ the drink-

°% to a just ^ hecame fritnJ^^^’ it '^as

has the Point^ everfl^'°“ ®^3'. his ^ith him.

he was Tunf^"'^^ decwi^^ ‘i^ah'ties- But all
^agankotci!!*^® ‘^itd he J,^(^ °”®'s face ^ suddenJv

^“'ring }^S ^d buH^^ff

,— -6 uzsrespect an"^ l .^"scow- he fcT • “ o

MSI., doSt ImSi » 'MSh •■•

wSig to'h™I’'y'*S,m'S”™ '■'““'oto' ""*• '= Mfse
'o .hoi'?- .*'« 'f tt.5s at?Wll’. io P&r® &

"h^> there's ^^4eST°, °'?res?ec?1f'^^ "

break- off fn^^^^ft for a is weai^Af^T?®

^fece. CODnfv»fiV- ^3n of hnn^, fo'enr?-

an^W^'^'s not^ he is S^' i^^

pVe." ^ii ‘Connection ouf*^ honour b^ tn ^iend-
^riegenen,, .. 1 ^ the offenri“^^° away

^'^^'hy j pi, 5°^'rivety flu<^- j ^ his proper

He's nor-f,^hedyev^,i'"ihed as he sni,i,„

. flushed

c’s not oi7^"‘3'ev.

"7-1,,,, ‘o enoum,-s;'^-7 "'^‘- oa%.

been bo^ tlt^ ?^t ' — -^ow m 1S12.

\|8.^ tt his Jeg, just fgj.

fun- that he picked the leg c^cfety/^S'^he^ays &at

wards buried it in tlic inscription on one side^

he put a monument over it wit ^bedyev, and on

•Hem lies the leg of Ae colle^ate jc of a happy «-

the other; ‘Rest, beloved ashes, h it

sunection,’ and that he had a ^cm goes to

(SS is' nothing short of blasgemy)^^^^^^^
iloscow every year tor ^e^^o tomb, and even *e vety
me to go to Moscow to show n ICremhn. He

cannon taken from the fr^o^gate,'" French falconet of
declares it's die eleventh^from tnc g

an old-fashioned P^^tt^', wig kgs uninjured, appare^ly,
laughed MySd’n. '""I assure you it was ^

me to I'f =„7XgeS?SS>Se; he declares
to have two legs, that s „ . ^Qgvitov. • • • , f-nm that

“^f^iVerieCy atvam ol S'So"^. m me^"

his leg, the first thmg he did \Vhat’s more, he a^n

tliat he, her hpsbMd, naa to me. H yoo

him how foolish it ?ti ’ ^ might let me bury y

page of Napoleon s m ' ^ broke off

Vagankovsky.’ »» Myshkin began,

■ ‘But did you really • - • . hut at the same

embarrassed. , shade embanasse ’ , j^gjon, and

The general too seemed^ condescensio

■e-rio'S.:” he dm».ed “fSe

^'egra'd^ti°^;g; .“^eat events. Hasn t he

-edyev, if it. Lebedy.

pSS?y aP?o%'stAhat

conversation o

o„ ,,

-no. I . . ^ at my face? " ^ • you are smiling

‘'butn/°""g’sh-Jookw,, ..

younger than I

don'f- ti,:_v ..

"I assure v ^yse5"out v^'’

shouJd have h°“' ^^"eraj, that T ^ younger than I

^ould describe"'"” i/S? ‘^‘nk it strange fh t

fnrl 1

a hnKt» * ^ a

the French

soJdierc '»

>«“ppSd?''’ ■">= Son„, "' '“ "“3

certain* fnr ^ kave be evni • ^ adventure

^assfflann ^ave run on the itn/ ^^cen, that's

not left th^ to^' ^ Wash”* ^o wooden °K ^^Poteon's
too should hi ' x.^" time and "'tth mv m ^’o Old
^ torced mv ^^n afraid ^‘^nror-stn^t^°^®^' "'ko had
PaJace jus? ^ough The^"^ ^on f ^t fifteen I

''CertSv ?h”..^^P°Jeon^" "!?5d to {he

disfressfd frr fil.^id «niarJc, SftlT^ *°™*”

Most cSafe^^ that he asSntei oid

os.,*K,_ ^“ty, and .*^ ... }^as just „„,*^oted, abashed and

"6 to blush.

"Ok Saf. “ MJ sortf of t^°''0list to “^tuialiv

same idea true/" crieri^x/^'^^kle and ; subject be

the sake lfV%htely, I details »

r"^- 2mfi!TK " genuine ^ ^trudc by the

the lifr of ^ad int^Jn*®f^^ng hi th ^ ^or

■Russian fife tac^f.^* 'o the ne^na”^ R’^t

That’s an excehen^°“ ^udS a fact,

^®nt observation^^ of

.O, on of youis.

J7ar>A«^7

^ m-pativ relieved at finding a refiige
Myshkin concluded warmly, greatly reli

from his blushes. - .. -.i h^c. eves sparkung

•. *1^ T—

.ysillcm conciuucu -

from his blushes. general, his eyes

"Isn't it? Isn;t it?” ‘f^J^g^Kows nothing of fear,
with pleasure. A boy, crowd to see the fine s o ,
makes his Nvay Seat man about whoin he^

unifonns, the smte, time people had talked of not^|

heard such a lot. For at tli^dme pe v I

else for years. The world was fuU or ^^^^y when

r^my^milk. so to speak, ^apoleo

>"SKc“fit m«,t have <><

ESr^^BS; ove,

mL“te benftl “P E SS

Xf t

menf. 'A general who fcd n me ^ ^larchel 7 ,

d’un boyarcl et a this rapid “ even in

boyards. iiport can discern a great ruhelher

as mpidly: 'A t£u», I don't

the enemy of his country ^ j a child . • • ^ l^e

I Uterally .used mos^worj.^^^, Napoleon was a

was certainly dre dnn ^ ^ 1 e w ^

thought a moment a • diink like that c 1 ^ mingled

that chUd I But if into the palace- 1 at onc^ b

He said no him. They mad nnly

with the suite and ^ favounte. But a Emperor

already looked upo ^ remembe^at ^rait of the

for a moment. • • stopped befor ^ \itfuUy. and at

went into the fi igQiced at it a long t , ^ passed by.

En.pros,Cath®»C;»«,^ a pent womanly ^nP

last pronounced . ^ „one knew me m P i^^nie to

Witl^ tivo da^^V .jc pclit boyard. I omy we

ICrcmlin an^^^ y^ere ^"’^^^rof d? sL^cour died,
sleep. At honm^oi^n’s P^S^'XoT remembered me; they
later one of campaign. Napowon ^ ^ nn

estonsled W ft OTftojft t pi

thev had oroub ^gy

Ata^nta,' but, like a

my child r he replied— he paced up i ^as

mv child r He did not seem to no*;^ I am ready

Sy ™ and liked to talk to "«■ M then the King

to kiss lire feet of the Emperor Alexanoer,
of Prussia, and Aen tlie A'lslnan^ Emp ^ ^ y j^^ow

hatred is everlashng ^d . . • to remember to who

nothing of politics. > He se there were gleams of fir

he was speaking and «ased, ^ tt these ^act^nd

his eyes long after. say de.cn ^ ^ ^ ^y

was the eye-witness of * Uterary vanities, al

memoirs now, and all the hmnble servant 1 ,

envy, the cliques . • • " V^Svation is a true one, and

"As for cliques, no doubt your nuietly after a moment s
la^e Sti. you," Myshkin »l«.J^rfgharasso about the
Silence. "I read not long ago ^“ggjine book, and experts
Waterloo campaign. I^.is evidenUy^^g But on everx page

say that it is wntten with S^.,. .. -j j^apoleon", and if i
one detects glee at the igQjj>s genius in evety °^^?^ 5 ^t's
been possible to tremety glad to do it. ^n-

paign, Charasse would be extreme y j
not right in such a venous wmk^c^ BmF^f ]

ship. Had you much to do m wa S^gg^^ess and simphci y
The general was the last traces of his m

of Myskn-s question dissipated

trustfulness. -nrliimant myself- I wrote

"Charassel Oh, I was uid^ remember no •

myself at the time, but . • •. ^lapoleon’s service?

You ask if 1 had much to do ^ Wap^^ ^^g I d d not
I was called a page-rn-waihng^«t^ ^BJiope of ^

take it seriously. Besides, H ^ jg^ht he would have g
ning over the Russians, an policy, if he had not . • •

mefwhom he had adopted from polj ^ ^^y that boldly no ^

had not taken a Personal f^cyt ^ t '"'^^^Stend

My heart was drawn to hun- y j^^g^ce and to . • • . g
had sometimes to be presen glh I I

the Emperor when he rode > -j^gjgj-e dinner. Ha ;,
fairly well. He used to dnve out oe^^ ' tkrily

and a mameluke, Roustan, w ^ ^gmiced almost mv
"Constant." The name was pronou

by Myshkin. „ then. He had 8°n . ^

"N-no, Constant was °ot tjr ^^gg ^as taken .

letter ... to the Empress Josephine.

snininjj in to mp ^ee y

^'^iy^'S^I^^P^op]o!'% thesis,

,?apoIeoS5 consu/fn i , thatproj

£■ ■ ” ThS ■'-’“'■f «.= a«. w

K ^ fo Shut (,f^^ ‘^ed that^^® fajnous 'r^ ^ '

ii” -p to ,hf « Sv„s“' * &»•..=

a£L ® ranch ®*l' toe hsf '“to “‘“°‘'®’ to HI

fjj. spring. as possihi„' ‘ Procure by pur-

of tli6 grcs-tcst

story that perh^s .jf jt really was so paltry

flaerant indiscretion, y°^^J.'axe\ These are only pa ^

w^ore. 1 assure you, viitness of the teare and

poVal facts. But I repeat I w^ ppe ^w but I!

groans of that great tnan , ^ to weep, fbere ^

towards the end fiSl but bis

more tears, he only moaned ^ “u^^i^pess. As though eternity

Napoleon used to -Heed tears in my eyes. H ^

gritved; I*' ■yr’™-'* si-

at me tenderly. Y — ^jpy gon, ?c fj*, . thg first

perhaps ^°*“^u°Kate me, and my brothers would b *

all tlie rc^t, all, ^000!’ 1 began to sob and uew

he threw bis arms round me a ^ ^ .j„e!'

, tv -

flowed together started, pondered,

I sobbed to lu • ^ j^°'^Methe letter to

TdSr r He sat do^vn on the spot and next

you, my d» fosephino, which was taken by <-'
the Empress J midst of his

day.” . , .-oiendidly,” said Myshkin. "In tn

“You led him to good feelings. filre yoar

evil ^jtpce, and how well you put ^ strange

I"lod hSl” »cd U.e ge„o„l y«.

cr^nuinc tears stood m his ey^./ ’„‘y I very

.4- eft pnnee, auu nvw J--- anu,

mod heartl” cried *e general rap^o
owu fe°° „n„inc tears stood in his eyes./ * ^ I very ncany

to ^^’magnificent spectacle. And do/V^ kn shar

,va5 a magr him to Paris, and should no o

wcntbacK

*0 diisf or,j ^^i^ghnetc "'^ere I foi,n^ ® Moscow. I

“”<J lalfl^"''’’?' 'I dSi?,'?""®"''*’ an d?* °'/"T sdici

"but I "adi me ’ u. "^nt to part vmt r * ^asl all turned
"•y ahS's ?,k‘°'"«' 'Write for VM “1 ''■f «taf,

'^<"'e,vro,em^Sl£.'»”»»<l-

c .... .

aJO

and fn u '

. that u-as ” a moment n •

!” ''Si'o?? "'•= Sd m •■' , ' ' ^'°“ ™»S’'”al'

'“SrSe'’!'?' ?’"'=>' ““'i

avenf her “ ^e most

Pnnce/ iftf,® ^’o o'clock ff” ^ died in child

n??e^*r' ' Se iap,

H -frincfe'.'; ■ ■ ■" '^'t. it's S; 7“" '“»•' “

i"'*..SaaL "» ®n.„, a^ ■ '"‘"“'-ng; I am »

again, cn, — .

sorry fQ ^ Sood-heap^i ^ad recol/^f^I^ suddenly

^°a.' Wav ^ am tourh^^^' that J'nf "Prince"'

“■ne i“„faw”'A'r“a SS 7'“" n»fe” '“S« P»*Sy

«nld '

',42; wt i “{2*f4a‘S'h^”“'"®eJ“of 1?"’ '■« ban*'

they are not believed, and I'^n^Jij^^v^^envhclmed with shame
SeS^^sition Ihe old man m^“ He might sospecl
Sn h? relumed Z U and feel msulted;

Myslikin of too ^ ^ leading him on to such 8 .

“Haven’t I made it ■worse by ,,ifjenlv he could not restra
MyS wondered imeasily.and^^^^^^^^^ as f

evening he sr^hi^

s.^jctE"Urbn1 3 u.m

t£t L was parting that even from him he could

SS Sd rva/gm'eW vhtch were dero^m^ to *

not accept "proofa ^ “7,rippy enough mttont thjt^,;
dignity of a man wi jiad tahen b

When Myshkin heard that j^l^out him. t^

10 briS S ?0°und by s«e*y^ „ n"P?°5l/“Yrfve

Imade-t- ; .

•' ‘Ti’e; better to be of a mossuid ... in forty-ioui.

pun to the admiration of the office remember . • • ^’

fed- mr« fi:! . -So eS3 «;

Se-r--Sou.--anewerediCo.ya, and he

Stole Sid glance at his father. ^ary me, wriffi on

" •-Dead Souls’ I Oh yes, ^5, grace pursues me!

the tombstone ; ‘Here lies a dead soul
Who said that, Holya .

493

°Pyegov . \ person as v

"And ihkt wf Eroshka

SS,*jSKt?&«~VST

ribbon S ^ ^oWe- ^ygorveSZ^ ^

whero T that?' 'On '^here diriir,, captain

SS I shouted '^p ^^WefieJd of

o . ' ^a afteriM^j- . Bravn /-_- , . .®y counfrv

pslissi^f^i

Ninal' t ® and W;„„ . .”°bJy, but de served

haveT5^ and how ch days 'Eooi

- - - s;rk'^

se]f a genS^^ n^iddJe of 'vender at? r

m 2“ « «°^kj Se'”l?V“'^ ^

S5,“4°"“^S’;;'‘”»-»'l.o«-ediM , “““■“'

"■”“ « <0 aw “ '”■*•"? if <;»””<

494

But the general drew him to fte

S^'^^neml Slwn^on the step, stiU holding Kolya’s hand.

''““S’'dowrb^ndd5wnr he muttered. 'TW tell you every-
thinr. • <lisgrace . . .h<md down ... your ear, your car; 1 51

“St whaUs’^it? " cried Kolya, terribly alarmed, yet stooping

^°'Tc°r^^^d2’i?o;nc . . •" whispered the general. Ife, too,

seemed trembling all over. _ , . . ~

"What? Why do you keep harping on ic roi de Rome? . . .

^Ttr xn > *

,<T T . whispered the general again, clinging more

and mom'tiglitly to . . .

I’ll tell . . • yo*^ everytlung, Mai}^ . . . Maij'a . . , Petrovna

^'\colya tore himseh away, sei^ the general by the shoulders,
and looked at him f^tically. The old man flashed crimson. Iris
Ups turned blue, farnt spasms mn over his face. Suddenly he
lurched forward into Kolya’s arms.

"A stroke!” the boy shouted aloud m the street, seeing .at

last what was the matter.

CHAPTER V

TN reality Varvara ^dahonovna had in her conversation with -

able .to/f ySer’sheaW"'‘°" “stilling added

■Lizaivefa p , ^ ^^3^tQir)ji» r■-rv*^^^^ ^at timp tj^/s poor

thinp- 7 rtf^ ‘'^ absurd Qn +k tinwfll-

'°"e «»w=. S '■»’* Wm L?r *'“'

thouptf 'f whether ci ^er “hearf ^'"O'™ every-

wasa n„f her 4 ™ ^ ‘’ecanje ve4?f- °ot the

was which rpn,^°°^^ out of '^stasfefa] to her

quite clea struepjpJ^’ Poor Liza v P'^^ot not only

''’ore not a ^ ^°t? \y- ®ouIt matter question

«-as it ?nt^°°‘^«^^ranH a &oS prince a

all Jvan%'^ §nod «iat was

thatr^B^ r' head of

apgjn K io'rf i, , ^3^ ^^GiTva.rr?c Course ^rst of

Info sUefc^'^?^ fencv ^ of if a]?f^.^ confession

compiejjgj f tjut, in thp^ bis •anf relapsed

(SHence ag,i„j .fe md ii di*.?^.’'® very

sot”- “ tte oSS Lf^P"" "■

looked at the tiling iviUiout Pt'i*/’ ‘^'S'an“*en.

"oissif ti:ss., sfi

Sim ?ho"p'f>“ »as noMjO,™.^ S" Vro^^fS
middling one; he had - • • Lizaveta

and a complete collap-c). ^ beyond all and

her husband’s bad Wp^^ed was ateurdl”

In her opinion aU J^^f^ision, stupid and absur^ ^

criminal folly, a sor prince was a world and

W put mm' ^ i.rr:Tand ^at
hadn t even got a p^^- ^^as this Jhe

Bydokonsky say? An , ^ jor Aglaia? the mother s

they had imagined At^rffl^^XS the same

hS shSdSd, bketog

'S Srff /!“ Svl Prokotyevna more

teoibLS anything^ ^^as^ very ttraS^^n

Aglaia’s sisteis ,. strike them bis side

of Myslikin. It ^ moment p- ®jjjmds to keep quiet,

short, they migh made up tha . family that Ae

completely. ^ Js an invariable If JLvna’s opposibon

It liad been f°f“^^emphatic Lizaveta Prokofy jt

more obsbnate and anp ^ °f/!"Plmost on the point of
and objeebons ^be was aim y ‘ possible to be

was for all of them ^^gj-andra ” bo^sen her long ago as

agreeing about i • ^ mother, who to ^nute now, and asking
perfectly sfen ^^jbng for her recollections; that is:

her adviser, vas jnore fw fer nobody saw it?

for her opinions to pa^- ^ the meaning of that

‘•Howhad b au^ ything? What was Proko-

Why °vni(Tht'? w tn notice and foresee

hOtlf ^nOlTl S"tf 4 orry about eve^lnng.^tonotice^n

W^Vd - o-g-r^y^vas 'she done. -f^ee

horrid to worry but count the crows?

and so on, a

remarking that h

iSb^nVo? ^^^yo^lTte^^M^^’sidea
+u,j ,?^°sfactorv rr~>j °x)e of tho i? choice of Pnnrp

Md “fcfh" §^c,“S ®'“"S w^SI?" ”'S‘'

^cre onr« ” 'vhethpr upon in a a. decent

rnaiLa "® or on succe^,

seToJ .?T^"^efufvoS ^ her

^"rincess rST and from fh'^^^dbn'." “d

Petersburg wko

fevot^vi. ^d pnncf^c" ?• a s godmnfi. ^ a\ray. Pnn-

^at rS'S^aTsr^ ~

diouyjh prince iiT?; ^ '“‘d there ^ happened; and

Poaif abo^' ^‘^‘^^atric ^nri^^?P^°a, f to go

J^fadaijf^^ian was th'at ^oang mal

cross at the^^i*^ '^s Wei; openly kepn^^^'
duced tr. +if failure of Vo, aware thaf- ^ ^^eping a mistress "
SielvS r^PavCtch ^Priacess wasS^;r
a?onc?^.^^^<=° 5 fhad®V° “tro-

^d that on the and she greater

accept ^®re not ^°“ad that "thev'H eveiy-

J»Pj£nSp‘‘|“-, tt»t

4g8 P wait and look

during her al)sencc a Myshhin P

visit had taken place on U y o'clock.) In repV
after midnight ?nslead o at “m ^^^-ored m ^

mother's hnpatientquesuo^ quite

begin with that no ? . come, diat for a 1 _ d .

a&ncc^ .hal « “cS io™

half an hour. Agkua had not c^^^ to piay,

iv-ards she came down and t^^n^ Ag

iu«4- TMnnrc did ^r\A i^ad sco]

mm, -

hiji an hour, Agimn J- Mwhhjn “ 'Jten

wards she ?“”*%*??'' t know how to j^oldcd tlie prince,

that the pnnee d'ri noUmm l^ud scolded u

him at once; tliat J J his ignorance, him-

who was hornoly asl a 5orr>' to 1°° j ^ turned

him dreadfully, so that they But that ^^o

she suggested a game prince played f ^ changed

out quite the other w^y- n -f veW nose, and

fasluon, like a 'Jeks from under his Aglaia

cards, 'and had =^^,^ 1 '’ of her h^c umc^ nmmng^.^ |
yet he had made a forgot herself, m > j^ft off

got lear fully an ^. q ^hc phuee^u . l^gt that

biting and homd tl ^ ,^,yhcn she to there, and

laughing, and tumc q as long as them, cspeci-

"shc wouldn t set fo .gful of him to co ]jappsncd •

that it was positively aU iUa^^ ^valked

ally at night, past vd ^.got on • P^g^rts to conwle

Then she slammed _„t^ 1 in spite of all tn , orince had
iuTL W fc>” » ‘Tq” Sr h «” S3, haste

him. All ot tt downstairs to were still wet wi&

gone, ,1 ugr eyes, and tn y ^T^rirnns 3-

Kt she^ad *tca5so ^*^fS hSgehoi- Kol^,

tears. She r^ „ begun lookmg ^ ^ he was out fo

hog. They had aU t^^ghog ^vas uot ms. m

explained that *e he^^ Kostya Lchedye

a walk with a ^hom ht the hedgehog and

in the street an had peasant had soW

ing a hatche , rieasant they ha • ar^gy had persuaded

th! hatchet from a peaKi^j^ S Jit just as well".

them the J°l|^tchet, too Jf a sudden Aglaia h^

S”d lt° ^ %nofyf tJ‘^ 5ira’’'alS'h’'F«®°o S

Srf fS tyf J“ .IS? h^at last he gave way a.d
time Kolya w

appeared tha? SlS^f “"“afted eJ ?" a^rae in eanynr

fourfifS to buvQ ^ P^irov wZ h belonged

that thev ul in wanf-Zf turn from a

ho7^t^ :'*^“ttheyg.^.f^ been go n? tf

bebnaM 't Schlosser's

instead of Sc^f bojr to\vl!® hedgehog

that at "Hisfor, they ^verTrn^■

hog. M ^y inade uq ^ • But A^llL uZ^^ them

"ath "’tnds andsoM^h^ “^’^ted '

with 3 ^ help njaroj bought thr^ u her the hedge-

=!^Sgh"r X-®p6n^ S'',;" ? '^ertailfe ‘»A

‘k« ’“"•Wd tba, j, „ ®‘*°S “‘i ‘>y -Pal-ias

u2' 5'‘^8?<.og1„ ^dS “*<1, io"'

too miTri,* seeinD- *c Kosfvn t T scarry-

"BJcS^' mt Tl^^ ^olytSl^^hedyevhadZ

been t drop if ^i"t ^^Ungto ^^°giug the basket

make it up: in a wor i fniessed rigW.

excusable”. . „.,pnlbcsis tlwt be bad ^ • ji^uled by

We may note m dismissed when

Myslikin returned borne tbe cleared at

Aclaia, and sat ior ^^'f/:^^thchedgebog. The tinned

K^lya suddenly it auSons ten

oncl Mysbkin seemed to nse ag ^^peated h «

glzt'aSm

:jS,o‘f f S' »- f«; hln. »ot r,n.y

"Wbat children children/ ' he «ied ^^^-’/that’s all

uce it is that we arc f eh ^ love yf^^Spressively .

"The simple ^act is^ authoritabvely and P jj^a

about itl” l^o‘y^f"hlt Ss time he sai^"£!ater Myshkin
Tslyshkin flushed, hnt tm -^.^Ivery five minutes

simply laughed and alaW^ his watch ^ety ^^g^ing.

laughed too, and he . ^nd how l°a8 upper hand of her,
lime was gemt- “_„„j pnt the uppi-\^_ pvcite-

•jadsiqAV pnoi is m ^nAa/Cjo^o^d ^oa .ionn aiR

-sip ui paiawnra Sito o;

,oa St ^qi l2°l°P ^ is ^ooi isnm sm

TT • •"• we St stqi., ^

SpS^r-

“»> I •^»“ ^ Sir

n/oqt >l®“‘','?,,s?jo*ttio P“' P*®®^ jtosssaau « =1 ' ' '

IS9I S Itpsasq }o 4 ,.t _ -uoiisaitb sitp tit

., 9 MStis 01 ^J,WA^ot^l l.nop L,

srss «;psrf

..soopmlg >1“= »”'P 'Sl’noreSdSStS"' s!>!t!

spp PI 3ontl=mP j ,,spj„ j ^

.ppAPWi ^TopgS

■■s

.3ii39q Sui^ ^ ^olsi Smimbut tire i istpw.,
n TO ‘DOTU V JO} JpB • •• ■• -noA tit OAaqaq ptre

^ ..■ sgmmsJ/tpappns'PPPPtn

X- :taot t tooq A^oaq tioA- ^"3” ^ou oAsq i„

'pgs „— -i'*®’'

^ .^T,n Lid P're papreis upiqsAK

^ SoS on 10 Wo ns 9TII SUPTBUI

Z OJ^ -SnipTOun

fond of her?

. 1 And are you very

“Strange, strange 1 • • •

.=n.s so stsangc to j,,

a: ... Yo'i ^!!"np/more\ but . . ..my

rjr “&sro'a “

otIS,' I man ! ■; ^ , ,i,c door calling Ytu* it

SiTl^fthS iSe hogging yon bavo the

l»'.itt.e

I W3,nt to knOW» ^ <*Qnoiltl

breathe more easily^^Y;. ^giaia assented I Papa,

■t??'] L JSol' "Si papi that, Oh«s be sl'Eteai _

eathe more ca=.v Aglaia assenteo ,:^„j.e 1 Paps

"Cruel! papa that. Oh yes, he s here

Good-for-nothing T ^ PJ,. laughed ^ro g^d, ^^^aming

''“Hi'yll Sy .W; S“4o her hand array.)

all over with happm ^,,,

•■So yon love tln= 5"e^.r . ■ • yo” Sfnly »'“e

‘i’'°'h'imr “iaii ^tglala. bailing »?“ “^,^1 moan it, papa,
endure bim^ <jare again. . .

her head. _ T mean it. . , .n „,.or and her

„iuft £ 0 ." ^‘d Uyslikio. ^

”1 l}*l ^ »

a 4 ™’,

mssmmm&

«ieis h Jf ""Sht. ASa ; "’^sr/or

into a franff iafeAh*i°^‘^‘^ ”>cnacinrfv ^T h

icant iTn*^^!'*"’ ^nost htr^tP’ °o» brokr^ S'^ is-ugtdnt

p -No, this I from

Prokofyevoa, cu^i^ aiiow

the fam.-f^'^^^ 'vas Jeff sisters ran and

"rlkT^- « the^on .^aiediat

iyov »aw yon have m ■ ”" '""' ““

°I™«= aa 1 ^nw"rifP“S"J^da"/"’»S ilc.

feaSSflrF

deast let mp i~ non t unrJo_a -i^ -i ni hpr r^fi.

a ^^oTe,^^fPP^«ecJraAdXl

Py^vay 1?, ^ou «iusfadi-f Sin^

li; you a/t least Jpf ®o I don'r^' ^°y— I’ni°j?^®'^

‘‘I loveS f kno^/a" ^ undezstand an^^®^

504

^d I thii

••Strange, strange 1 . • • • ^uch a surprise

•■•San «a.s so u% oo^r .‘“-y

h'SdW Not oo yo“ “

SnTet fiVr' ° ... door

Alexandra’s voice was he <J t ^ bit “ ^ in

•‘Wait a bit, my he said hurriedly, ana

over. I’U be back call. other’s arms, '

alarm he rushed out m r«^ ^^ughter \\f4^^endemess, and
He found, his “^vere tears of hands, cheeks

minsline tlicit tears. y ^•-cjn£ nioth
- „coloilldon. A6lata ”“ '‘3V'i;r&reyootevotte
and lips; they were ^Fyodorovitch I There y

"Here, look at he > PfQjtofyevna. j^^jn her

whole of her,” smd , y tear-sta_ined laughed aloud,

Aglaia lifted her h^W^ ^ her fadier, f ®^^^\issed mm

riTd^rr£

s,r£

"What are you but joyfully.

} !^„^fl;ilv now. . .rented suddenly. Spod

as

shnJI In ^^^diecJ <j, j very secont

“srsir' '

''Come second shf. y ^ ^ dedan-d

?.S 'f‘i %,,f'» 'ov„ to...

fyevoaf^'® I'ar if SKli^“ ?®lt of il'r.' '" Alexandra
"■'« .-nin

a, ahoT"’”'”'

•■and’Se® elnpid, to?' °” “P '»

foot ,, .and,,

The father^* ;^&Iaiaut{_, . course, have

"to i]? 2 '?a'“ “■Pl-e-is.

Se'^s„''g* «nS,t^eT.’f ■"

506 ™ -Aglaia snnV« oa#

fetr- .0 — -Why ^0

..my dyo>> “'MvcncsV „t to asking ^

^°Hc would have ^d did notice

forgiveness. ^ Who he was ^e-

the words, ‘ a strange man, ’ „ fact that

quence”, but, being is^ doubt that the mere

lieved at those J?„faia again wthout^n^^y

he could come and see o ^vit

ivas allowed to talk ^ knows, peAfP%S ' ° Sst this

utmost bliss to . x rest of his life. ( , ^g(j; she

been satisfied k„ prokofyevna secretly f^fgh she

contentment that J^Xtded many things in secret, whicti
understood him, sbe herself.) . , uin regained

“?“s"Sf to describe to» “mplg'y„*/i, lighViSrted
his spirits and watching haT not

Mrl; S -d!Sen;i»S^3,f

he must restn^ hOT ^ He was almost the ^J^grvered

anideaby his expre^ g y thm^. H

talked that and with Pleasure But

tiol. He expf f d eame^^-om ^ews,V myn pnvate ob.e^^^
even ^xpo^ded s if agreed later

tions, so that it ^at eveni g ygrsa-

well expressed, ^^--nchin liked senous subjects or
on. Though General Epa^to^“p^^^^fyg a secretly thougn

tion, yet both he actually sad

was too intclle Myshkin went so ^r ugh at, so that

the evenmg. B^^^ first tola gn^

iSSS5?jS2-ii-«;a

^^Smonr than she hstened. ^

Sile ioolcs 3.f h *

P^^asedjJSf he kenf shagging

Sliced a great add thaP^ ^^Peatiag the nh

ness. BnthA ^^^^i^enre^^!' a businlj^ P^e which,

cue . 'i°°' resolved for

-f ion,

tunes, ilfvdhi • §arden an hour ^^S^^g-stock.

ujg of the n„ °"'' ” ^g/aia co -j “^'^^paper or some

iina^.. .® newsnpriQ.. ./»? said one ^ .

tolj r*^'- ^oVrVZV^y^S^y^ ^one aZ

,,-..nr I i™fJtofaepSppappened.orthe

^ou^after ^ou h ^carnuig/' answered

« «crthat? Read^^l haven’t that> Wn

-s

SoSS"' £'^'“2e“S “”'®y aa,

?• permitted tiaPnof ^aquiriePfu' "^^^aia was

have evna that fh? * to put off

^'«gs the ph^g ''diese stupid “P a wa-tTP*'”^

-^abS?. '^7tf “'“““ "

insisted that he must go into the question of Nastasya Fih'ppovna
witli Jlyslikin once for all.

Ivan Fyodorovitch swore that all this was only ‘‘a whim”,
and put it down to Aglaia's “delicacy”; that if Prince S. had
not referred to the marriage there would not have been this out-
burst, because Aglaia knew herself, knew on good authority,
that it was all a slander of ill-natured people, and tliat Nastasya
Filippovna was going to marry Rogozhin, that tlie prince had
nothing to do with it, let alone a liaison \vilJi her; and never had
had, if one’s to speak the whole truth.

Yet ]\Iyshkin went on being blissful and untroubled by any-
tliing. Oh, of course, he too noticed sometimes something
gloomy and impatient in Aglaia’s expression; but he had more
faitli in something different, and the gloom vanished of itself.
Once having faith in anytlring, he could not waver afterwards.
Perhaps he was too much at ease in his mind; so it seemed at
least to Ippolit, who chanced to meet him in the park.

“Well, ^dn’t I tell you at the time that you were in love?”
he began, going up to Myshkin and stopping him.

Myshkin shook hands witlr him and congratulated him on his
“looking so much better”. The invalid seemed hopeful himself,
as consumptives are so apt to be.

_ He had come up to M3'shkin to say something sarcastic about
his happy expression, but he soon drifted off the subject and
began to talk about himself. He began complaining, and his
complaints were many and long-winded, and rather incoherent.

“You wouldn’t believe,” he concluded, "how irritable they
all are there; how petty, how egoistic, vain and commonplace.
Would you believe it, they only took me on condition of my
dying as quickly as possible, and now they’re all in a fuiy that I
am not dying, but, on the contrary, better. It’s a farce 1 I bet
you don’t believe me.”

Myshkin had no inclination to reply.

"I sometimes Uiink of moving back to you again,” Ippolit
added carefully. “So you don't think they're capable of taking
a man in on condition of his dying as quickly as possible?”

"I thought tliey invited you with other views.”

“Aha ! You are by no means so simple as you are repuied to
be 1 Now is not the time, or I’d teU you something about that
wretched Ganya and his hopes. They’re undermining your posi-
tion, prince; they’re doing it mercilessly and . . . it’s quite
pitiful to see you so serene. But, alas I you can't help it!”

“That’s a funny thing to pity me fori” laughed M^rchi-iTT

509

be l,appi„ j, .

• bfea JS'’^v“<ikTOthe

tat ? • ' '■“ Wtaf '’I't* '«; tat is? ff “ be happy /„'

hcinrr ^ for tho r conversation,

oeing gcntJemam,. Pnje; besiH.. ...

510

Ippolit flushed hotly. The thought flashed through his mind
that JMyshkin was pretending, and taking him in. But, looking
into his face, he could not help being convinced of his sincerity.
His face brightened.

"Yet I must die all the same!" he said, almost adding, "a
man like me! ” "And only fancy how your Ganya plagues me;
the objection he has trumped up is tliat three or four who heard
my confession will very likely die before I do. What do you
say to that? He supposes that's a comfort to me, ha! ha ! In
the first place tliey haven’t died yet. And even if these people
did die, you’ll admit that’s no comfort to me. He judges by
himself; but he goes further. He simply abuses me now; he says
a decent man would die in silence, and tliat it’s all egoism on
my part! What do you say to tliat? Yes, what about egoism
on his part; what refinement, and yet at the same time what ox-
like coarseness of egoism, though they can’t see it in themselves!
Have you ever read, prince, of the death of Stepan Glyebov
in the eighteendi century? I happened to read about it yester-
day. ..."

"What Stepan Glyebov?” •

"He was impaled in the time of Peter.”

"Oh dear, yes, I know. He was fifteen hours on the stake,
in the frost, in a fur coat, and died ivith extraordinary grandeur.
Yes, I read it . . . what of it?”

"God grants such deaths to men, but not to us! You think,
perhaps, I'm not capabie of dying like Glyebov?”

"Oh, not at alll” Myshkin said, confused. "I only meant
to say that you . . . that is, not that you would not be like
Glyebov, but . . , that, you . . . that you would be more
likely then to be . . .”

"I guess, like Osterman? And not Glyebov — that’s what you
meant to say?”

"What Osterman?” said Myshkin, surprised.

"Osterman, the diplomat Osterman, Peter's Osterman,”
muttered Ippolit, suddenly disconcerted.

A certain perplexity followed.

"Oh, n-n-nol I didn’t mean to say that,” Myshkin said
emphatically, after a brief silence. "You would never, I think
. . . have been an Osterman.”

Ippolit froivned.

"The reason I maintain that, though,” M5^shkin resumed
suddenly, obviously anxious to set things right, "is because the
men of those days (I swear I’ve always been struck by it) were

v«

?■>»*!’'■’- “7 °5.4^->'

“ow for the l^^\y°^’re doin^ ‘ ’ ^ aafd

aJJ handJe ^f^ecf child ^'0“ .‘^°«soie me

rij?ht a rh,^ ’ P^nce. r \vitb m»

veWH^®''^''n5indi cup. . ■' Notice thou,

yo? ?K "’‘^°“'^esoui7^^3" '^eVeha’/™ "“t an
than Ostem ^ shouid\>i’^^^^ct chiJd" '“““J' ‘■™-

dead for ^t xvouJd n^t^P^^i’aps to'tS””^^* .^.etmeteJl

ii’an OsS ^ shouW chiJd ^“nny coa-

dead for the^”‘, ^t wouJd not^h^^^^^P® to'be”om*

^°°° as po«fM t3sterman^® "'°^th ;vhi]e better

Good-byfWf, iiioagh, o?r- • . . I see I 1° the

^.the b«t w^1 cCe shah ^ia as

^t as far aT^^ ^"’a to die? * ^ "'hat do v^’ me.

"P,„. as mav h» • . . t„ ^ou think wouJc

«e a virtuous Pn,r;n„

^/t as far aT^^ ^"’a to die? * ^ "'hat do v^’ me.

, '-Pass by us^n^^/' ‘^at is’? V * ^ake
io^ voic^ forgive us’ oST®' ^e r '

3f Tr" -■"

•'C. Good-bye/"

Varvan ''''

pa3J*'“”«™a had ,„,d u, ,
axpg/as expected S ^Panchins' ar about

expressed heisel?^^ evening h“he corrT^.^^ Princess

^^3nged ttn'+u ^fher in ffifc ^^ct; f/jg ffueste

^acessSy^^ too It too she^ had

i S'*-

^ ® '>» paiS.?rs;?”4 rail 3

'^S’e certainly d;rf.fhy '"as going

J- 512 ^ 'hd cany weight in

society, and as they hoped she would be well disposed to
jMyslihin, the parents reckoned that “the world” would accept
Aglaia’s betrothed straight from the hands of tlie omnipotent
“old princess”, and tliat therefore if there were any tiling
strange about it, it would seem much less strange under such
patronage. The real fact was tliat the parents were quite un-
able to settle the question themselves whether there was any-
tliing strange in tlie matter, and if so how much. Or whether
there were notliing strange about it at all. The candid and
friendly opinion of influential and competent persons would be
of use just at the present moment when, thanks to Aglaia,
nothing had been finally settled. In any case, sooner or later
the prince would have to be introduced into society, of wiiich
he had so far not the faintest idea. In short, they were intend-
ing to "show” him. The party arranged was, however, a simple
one. Only "friends of tiic family" were expected, and not
many of tlicm. One otlier lady besides Princess Byelokonsky
was coming, tlic wife of a very important dignitary. Yevgeny
Pavlovitch was almost tlie only young man e.xpected, and he
was to escort Princess Byelokonsky.

Mj^hkin heard that Princess Byelokonsky was coming three
days beforehand; of tlie party he learned only the previous day.
He noticed, of course, the busy air of the members of the family,
and even from certain insinuating and anxious attempts to
broach the subject to him, he perceived that they dreaded the
impression he might make. But somehow the Epanchins, all
witliout exception, were possessed by tlie idea that he was too
simple to be capable of guessing tliat they were unea^ in this
way on liis account; and so, looking at him, everyone was in-
wardly troubled. He did in fact, however, attach scarcely any
consequence to the approaching event. He was occupied with
sometWng quite different. Aglaia was becoming every hour
more gloomy and capricious — tliat was crushing him. When
he knew that tliey were expecting Yevgeny Pavlovitch, he was
greatly delighted, and said tliat he had long been wishing to see
him. For some reason no one liked these words. Aglaia went
out of the room in vexation, and only late at night, about twelve
o’clock, when Myshkin was going awa3', she seized an oppor-
tunity of a few words alone with him as she saw him out.

"I should like you not to come and see us all daj> to-morrow,
but to come in the evening when tliese . . . visitors are here.
You know that there are to be visitors?”

She spoke impatiently and with intense severity. It was the

513

"P^ny. ry,

pa.Tcnts Tf° felt ^'^sufferahJp-

"Can •^' it
once?" sh^ ^peak to you abr.^^° °”-

' “®‘“'" '“■■ » ™™,e, irr

‘o dispute ,vit]i th

aboS“ aiwi^s ^ngs^° sV^'

that ^1°'^ ‘o ?um%‘j°”^""’PdWe^n S She's a

WcVs. Wfe"B:»ay, S.i™"‘''>«rs„ii^L*'’''

UrscJves fnfn

if'^'VsSSd • account?^. ^ • • • ^‘^

caJ5!)?°'^®^ce^uiseJfuJ°"''accou^f^^y all over.

,;'&;:rsofc --

^ — ”< ..X. ttr?.?

\\5M ^ ‘^^‘=d°naiy; you'JI

make a sensation 1 It’s a pity that you know how to come into
ilic room properly. Wlierc dfd you learn it? Do you know how
to take a cup of tea and drink it properly, w'hen everyone’s
looking at you on purpose?”

"I believe I do,”

''I’m sorry you do. It would have made me laugh if you
didn't. Mind you break the Chinese vase in the drawing-room,
anjnvay. It was an expensive one. Plca.se do break it; it was a
present. Mother would be beside herself and would cry before
everyone. She’s so fond of itl Gesticulate as you always do,
knock it over and break it. Sit near it on purpose.”

"On the contrary. I’ll sit as far from it as I can. Tirank you
for warning me.”

"Then you are afraid you will wave your arms about. I’ll
bet anything you'll begin talking on some serious, learned, lofty
subject. That will be . . . tactful.”

'"I drink that would be stupid ... if it’s not .appropriate.”

"Listen, once for all,” said Aglaia, losing all patience. "If
you talk about anything like capital punishment, or the
economic position of Russia, or of how ‘beauty will save die
world’ ... of course I should bo delighted and laugh at it . . .
but I warn you, never show yourself before me again! Do you
hear? I’m in c<amcst! This time I’m in earnest ! ”

She really was in earnest in her threat. Something excep-
tional could be heard in her words and seen in her eyes which
Jlyshkin had never noticed before, and which was not like a
joke.

"Now, after what you’ve said I’m sure to talk too much . . .
even . . . perhaps break the vase. I wasn’t in the least afraid
before, and now I'm afraid of evciydhing. I shall certainly be
floored.”

"Then hold your tongue. Sit quiet and hold your tongue."

"I shan’t be able to. I’m sure I shall be so alarmed that I
shall begin talking and shall break the vase. Perhaps I shall fall
down on tire slippery floor, or something of that sort, for that
has happened to me before. I shall dream about it all night.
Why did you talk to me about it?"

Aglaia looked gloomily at him.

"1 tell you what: I’d better not come at all to-morrow! I’ll
report myself ill, and that %vill be the end of it,” he concluded
at last.

Aglaia stamped and turned positively white with anger.

"Good God I Did anyone ever see anything like it? He’s

515

Weeing When,, ^

• Come f F'lJ ^ WjLh P COnrA

“I ^^guagei* Are vo., I • ^ Possesses

glad that vo^fv ^Shia. is pefh^

A i]°"' veu « child suci ^'"oios.^S

suddfSy a°^ on '” ^ '

o?e1n°faSf a .g, but

>o look ”f 7° ®'°™y seS ^Yo ”’’

>"«ff “r- "®"»'"oVoL“s

Wieve^my jh'*"‘'™y*o?'(h«7“ '””‘'og lo say ft i
"H„ct, . -^oere’s onp s not ennn.yh ^ ^ ^ong

'kAcft V ®°'"™t hc5 Lt,"® 'ookiog af hiS™,'’'"' “dfa]y, ,
S ‘'a'“t?”Sh?$,'? £"'Sns. ^^fV°g5^- *' tad ton

fiSSiS^SAlT^

people Th "’^^‘orious bought. Anl;^u^u^^^ ^ts in

51^ '^Sallthebmejhewa,

trying to persuade them of something. Yevgeny Pavlovitch and
Ippolit were of the party, and seemed extremely friendly.

He waked up at nine o’clock with a headache, with confusion
in his mind and strange impressions. He felt an intense and
unaccountable desire to see Rogozhin, to see him and to say a
great deal to Irim — ^what about he could not himself have said —
Qien he fully made up his mind to go and see Ippolit. There was
some confused sensation in his heart, so much so that, although
he felt acutely what happened to him that morning, he could
not fully realise it. One thing tliat happened to him was a visit
from Lebedyev.

Lebedyev made his appearance ratiier early, soon after nine,
and was almost completely drunk. Although Myshkin had not
been observant of late, yet he could not help seeing that ever
since General Ivolgin had left them — that is, for the last three
days — Lebedyev had been behaving very badly. He seemed to
have suddenly become extremely greasy and dirty, his cravat
was on one side, and the collar of his coat was tom. In his lodge
he kept up a continual storm, which was audible across the little
court-yard. Vera had come in on one occasion in tears to tell
him about it.

On presenting himself that morning, he talked very strangely,
beating liimself on the breast and blaming himself for some-
thing.

"I have received ... I have received the cliastisement for
my baseness and treachery — a slap in the face," he concluded
tragically at last.

“A slap in the face ! From whom? And so early?”

"So early?” and Lebedyev smiled sarcastically. "Time has
nothing to do with it . . . even for physical chastisement . . .
but I've received a moral, not a physical, castigation.”

He suddenly sat down without ceremony and began to tell
his story. It was a very incoherent one. Myslrkin frowned and
wanted to get away, but all at once some words caught his atten-
tion. He was strack dumb with amazement. Mr. Lebedyev was
telling of strange things.

He had apparently begun about some letter. Aglaia Ivan-
ovna's name was mentioned. Then Lebedyev began all at once
bitterly reproaching Myshkin himself; it could be gathered that
he was offended with the prince. At first, he said, the prince
had honoured him with his confidence in transactions wth a
certain "person” (vrith Nastasj^ Filippovna), but had after-
wards broken with him completely and had dismissed him with

517

ignominy and h

^ to .epel ,wa

Zi ‘ r “ fe

- ™iucl endure

o™ wS- ■ • ooi frS, '^•“«ton,?^*°«Nasteva
“y onij, danSto''''™it. “I'roagh

„ aog' wS‘ah7s S™*

®omingafhaif renlipri '

of an hnf,_ .^^-PasteiVhf dimfh, ....

an £?^°-J ^ed ^K tin's vei^

^^^ble to Vr^^ ®®en LizaveH t, She

“I saw ^'s ears ^ ^^°^ofyevna/" •,

She glvri‘^/"^^"o^?ndr. • Myshkin.

“nopfned Jetfer blow . . ^ ,

epeakinp- 4 *. ' ^od even she finnrr ’-^ one.

^ 00 , noffar° ffP.bysicaJJy i^e out ^ face

"Why* ®be dune nf Physical

g'‘dtha?aIrWdy"'*’"'^?' Have^t^°“ “^^Pened.?"

to . . ■■■It was a liter ^ thought J'rf

‘ potpo.0

°t I-ebedyev's ;* "’^he head nr ♦ •.

.“',£-0 jfSs : r > 4 ^-

and dish^^*?? . the Person, fPor t ^ certain

innocentald*hii!^L^°^ therris^a^^

„ “^IS ^ ^^stamilyand. .

. My of the other sort ) And so, the letter was fron, that
■.■’^;So"w''rSbt?¥rfSs^ FilVpovnat Nonsensel"
was. Ot a

rhVhSS^^riortoP-” hennaing rAth 'Ah sard

Lebedyev, smiUng and another and

As he was continually mixing P . -^^ut Myshkin held his
lorgettins what he had J'f' “ rsfulSSned\r from clear
peace to let him speak out. Yet through him

Uiether the correspondence A that “it was just the

or through Vera. Since he ^^n or for Nastasya Filip-

same whether the letters . ^ ^ ^g tetters had not passed
povna", it seemed more had been letters. How this

tiirough his hands, ® absolutely inexphcable.

letter had come into his hands re somehow

The most probable explanatio vas^

snatched them from • • • Azaveta Prokofyevna. That

carried them for^some object to ^ last. ^

was what Myshkin gathered agit^+^nu.

«Vnn’re. out of vour mind I he cnea i

better to be of use in ma. 4-— communicated wiin . -

noble-hearted mother . - • when I ivrote to her just

before by letter anonymously, ^d^ ^^^gnty mmutes

now a preliminary note - . guj secret correspondent .

past eight I signed ^X^^^toost haste by the back

I was admitted promptly illustrious lady,

door ... to the presence of the luu

"Well?” -I /!„ ehp nearly beat. me; very

“Md there, as yo?.Xl'mo1tS.?^^bfpracticX did beat me
nearly, so that one might nbn<^t say n p t ^ to

And she threw the letter ® , l^g thought better of h and

keep it-I saw it, I noticed “ u Xs been entrusted

flung it in my face: 'Since a feUow UK y Since she

with it, give itr . . ■ ^X'Se me/she must have been
wasn’t ashamed to say so . j„i»
oHended. She’s a Fot-tempered lady I
“Where is the letter now.

' "Why, I’ve got it .still- Hore

519

, letter can't remafn v. ^ sister with

finn/J Jt S tn

"T;,,7 T ^ shower? 7- •^‘^auono-

"Tt.<fV^“er can’t remain v. ^ sister with

-Its for voi, , witjj von "

Lebedyev J,ac,°^/°r you. Itv^°“-

4'*'°frw Sd”'"’ ''Sdf. ™ ■''■'■

DenHir, as tJion^ifP grimare tj. ^ , . .

liK^iV'aPl ap mS?„ch"''““^- ° ■”S""a'

is KpossW,, . l»o..Id

, tal'.onS ™'‘ "’ ^^--ia-

- - ...

v;'"‘S^i'JS.H--i.i-

"Sinipiv induced you fn you ho

of uspf’^XT^^^ ounositv a ^ *ales?" -Pn to receive a

hnng mel-'^' ^°'v I desire of ^ .p

^ Lizaveta Prok ^°“ns "^You maj

520

"No, I was fresher, more decent. It was only after my
humiliation that I got . . . into this state.”

"Well, that's enough. Leave me.”

But he had to repeat this request several times before he could
induce his visitor to go. Even after he had opened the door he
came back on tiptoe into the middle of tlie room and gesticu-
lated with his hands to show how to open the letter. He chd not
venture to put his advice into words. Then he went out with a
suave and amiable smile.

All tills had been extremely painful to hear. What was most
evident was one striking fact : that Aglaia was in great trouble,
great uncertainty, in great distress about something. ("From
jealousy," Myshkin whispered to himself.) It was evident also
that she was being worried by ill-intentioned people, and what
was very strange was that she trusted them in this way. No
doubt that inexperienced but hot and proud little head was
hatching some special schemes, perhaps ruinous, and utterly
wild. Myshkin was greatly alarmed, and in his perturbation did
not know what to decide upon. There was no doubt he must do
something, he felt that. He looked once more at the address
on the sealed letter. Oh, he had no doubt and no uneasiness on
that side, for he trusted her. What made him uneasy about
that letter w'as sometliing different. He did not trust Gavril
Ardalionovitch. And yet he was on the point of deciding to
restore him the letter himself, and he even left the house with
that object, but he changed his mind on the way. Almost at
Ptitsyn’s door, by good fortune he met Kolya, and charged him
to put the letter into his brother’s hands, as though it had come
straight from Aglaia Ivanovna. Kolya asked no questions and
delivered it, so that Ganya had no suspicion that the letter had
halted so many times upon its journey. Returning home,
Myshkin asked Vera Lebedyev to come to him, told her what
^vas necessary, and set her mind at rest, for sire had been all tliis
time hunting for the letter, and was in tears. She was horrified
when slie learned that her father had carried off the letter.
(Myshkin found out from her afterwards that she had more
than once helped Rogozhin and Aglaia Ivanovna in secret, and
it had never occurred to her that she could be injuring Myshkin
in doing so.)

And ^fyslikin was at last so upset that when, two hours later,
a messenger from Kolya ran in with the news of his father's
illness, for the first minute the prince could not grasp what was
the matter. But this event restored him by complctdy distract-

521

“ coherent and dfcV invalid; go upsfaiis an

phrase; ‘'un,_^^^°nnecfed talk nntu hands and in

moment”. wwlf a momentr

£" S«J 6«"°m ,2"^* "“iiS Not ? *P‘ ““ *y 'S

tentaoivairoa^'f « ov^r IfS “^»-'t sober

pvo W’ouJd 7 inf 7 ^ aJmi^ toough be bad

ehJ^ ”’°ment that "hp ^ma Alexandrrf ''’^hout explain-

positivdy "a i” '•®og“Setai V“'* ‘‘®* <be°"dt'

said to S”S'iJ'«W iJs geSt' ttj

c^abV: ■■mrcJiV "oto ot'45- N-oofleSd™™'

mrgiveyoul" r„i, j ^ hJess yoni n,f and almost xeith

He walked in admirably, ^ been afraid the

e«"S •

°°sitlii>g down and '“'*‘8 ™™^',l,e'leStl£eSe bogira mUi

once tliat the compai^jeren t tt "^'eSfe

which Aelaia had tried to mg - ^ jn his hte

figures of his last night’s dre^s. dreadful n^e

hflaw a tiny comer of projects, considerations

■•society”, ^or some time past cert to ^at

and inclinations had made h g j^terested by ^
enchanted circle, and so ¥ '^f ^on^was fascinating. It som^
impression of This first mpr^^^

how seemed to him s-t o though it were not a P,^^>.

speak, bom to be feat fvening to the Epand?"® J

and no guests had been and that he himself had

that towere all “thf shared their thoughts^ ^

long been their devoted fri^ separation. The cha

was now returning to ^^^ty. and of apparert
of elegant manners, of sunpfi"^’ j^^g entered his head fear
was aLiost magical. It Sy, ivit, and refined

all tills simple frankness ^nd veneer-^

dignity was perhaps only an ,‘1 , • prepossessing ’

■ SVof the gu^ts, *feo^wL themse ves rm-

were rather empty-headed peog. ^^^^ adopted

aware, however, that of ti|« they

for wliich they were not ty^Pty, g Myshkin, earned i

it unconsciously and by '"^ntenc . ^ t^gUnation ^ fspert

thecharmof Ills first impre^ f this jiriportant a^d

not

opinion, was so cordial, ^ o , tjrst time. Pernaps

friends either of the and was introduced to them,

them to be, as soon as he met i

^■hcrti Were n

Ss °Tr

^er husband, who 'S bv^

ws??-s s

S%‘ Vp»"XS°3e"iT‘ iS.S?S'h’ “«*,>'^ 3d

fv m lie ,„„sS" "■>» as lh„Lr,S,?. *■■ "» ado£: 1"?

haron ^vith , P^^ce a verv — and Jn'q

s-faX^sr,r

in admiSf ^Putation for

^^hichiil?-?i®^'^e soiSe^?/’®, ^"ssia it'e]f-^^°^® know'
loftiest became a n^^^^^^'bnariiV nrof

We

“g^Kv's^j’ ®3?i,s

f°nn of his ,^3-odoroS . "

by no meMf^ regarded him m heart and thrm? and

He treated himsetf ^T P^^ron. Yef^h^ Peculiar

sy/dfr “-3“ sny4^ ”■

s?”aa%?,4^?£d°s#“ i' vf s:

U relation ^hjportanfp^tf”^ ®“ch exchin ‘^“"^‘^eration,

e^ of hizaveta p™°f fentJeman who S, ^^ere was

’^"’'Of3-,vna's, though ^"PPOsed f° be

^ 524 ™js was quite un-

. , . 11^ fortune.

He was stout and ^3 J* ^ discontented ^ ^

talker, and i^^d ttie ^ ^le fprd), e of

only in the most Icg^^n m Vf (as regards

man (though even tins was^^g ^a^A^ Seat friend

the Enghsh anstocmcy ^ ^M^Sovef Lizaveta

roast bee hame^-footj^^ amused >im. idea that

of the dignitary , anu ^j^^jjshed the Stonge ^ ^

Prokofyevna to’^ s somewhat fnvolo ^j„„iy take it

this elderly gentleman (a Hh thfo^r of his

distinct weakness for ^ dra happy .ue assembly

into his head to fnTmost solid of oSspicuous for

hand. Below tin P though these too , -gd Prince S.
came the younge ^ ij^gg^ To this P^oup ^yell-known and
extremely elegant qu , moreover, the . . d female

»nd YevW »•«*. ““td ^£ *5 sll »'

fascinating ^^nce N-, ^f hve-and-fo ^

hearts all over Emop • ^ y,onderful s “^^^gd and who

handsome appe^ fo gome extent P^^j^o made up,

whose large fortu There were people^ iv,prnselves to the
usually lived abroad. not he 3 on|ing ^ gonid

l„d J, a ldWJ“^“?h“«gh. »e to EP“£ sSse ot 81 -

"inner circle of spcie^. Through a cer ^g ^^j-g

sometimes be ^®t “ d^gm, the Ep^ highest society with

ness wluch always^ parties to mix tb ^ ggptatives of the
occasions of ttap^ SjQ-^ver grade, with sdec P praised indeed
persons of a father ower|_ Epaa^^f^Jy understood their
"middling was^said of theca^ * ^ e p^^ud of being

for doing so, aad i , pf fact, and Eiey -middling sort

position and ^ere P P j-gpresentahves ^ous man, a very

bought so. Ope ot tn engmeem, a introduced to

s -

moreover, so ti^ He was of ^^St’and-tMrty, and ivas

8.^ to pa^ona^a

taking advant, b 525

persons in hiVh 7

»■- Ss'dXT" r‘^£ofs!

SfesSSsSlSS

of SiaJK oiania for stSj^P ? ^ as her

(Jubioj jf^^^Sence, and foo fforpL?^^' °f

S53!^s|S^m

would tovo to tell some slop" '? ^'’‘^en"MySk?n'lio»”5 the

such btHlianl hthtioor and su ^ j„,„ as Prmc^

wcIri'neS“ ”°7j *””!i V?ta ^”toP“7‘“ Jlv® to

little German poet. ^^”“f“bdicve that he '”? “^“"fhing
and poliWifSv^.l'S, Ills presence. But Mys)*!" \ „,i£

honour on the family y P ^j^^ercurrent. ^.^^Vncr narticu-

of the other side. for^een. She was lof "Sg“?ere

chance that Aglaia had ^Iwee young laduj

larly handsome th ^ over-smartly, Yevgeny

dreised for f^le iSaia was sitting wth ^^ i;

hair in a fJSing to him and "4,^tehaving

Pavlovitch, Yevgeny Pavlovitch ^ the

exceptional '^\ also perhaps • tv however;

more sedately than u uat He arrived

dignitaries. He was ahea ^gh he was so young, -n

hewasquiteat home^a^^^ ,^pe ® ^ J. gome

at the Hpancluns & ^jarked wth ^PP^° y(-h circumstances

Princess Byclokonsky T LizSetaProkofyevna

fashionable yo'tug tor such an uncle. Liza pre.

have put on mourn g ^ ygjj she seeme jntently

too was pleased at it, ^0^ ^gtaia him. By

occupied. he fancied she was sa d^^ ..fantasUcal’

once or bvice, gi very happy- H^ ® ^th Lebedyev

degrees he began to Je conven,a frequent intervals,

ideas and apprehens n suddenly, at q ^diculous

seemed to him ’ Jnceivable, and desire had

recalled , though upeonsaou®^ ^ disbelieve that

dreaml (His chiei^^ something to questions, and

been all ^y Q^e little and only m listened, but was

dream 1) He sp .^ggether: he sat sti degrees something

fmully tig htasclt ISSlrtoo, ready

. evidently ^vas beginning to began talking,

Kll tltaSwK iSiois,' a.a apparently qu*

say

thouph iin in thp r>n recent lepicUt’ i’e had

L no need ^ff and for hi, 1-!°^ a

snbfect of J,r‘' ^ad gone “nd aUho'^" ‘na,

“To avn°^ ntjgation, and nuin, ^as ^nie to

a'vay W ^odier hwsuit ^f ^'"’‘^n to spend ^

I shJji ^ Another ■PaWis^itw ‘°

bel/ev? -"^p^^yevitch . ' f ^‘^^rovitch is a mh «
noticed Epanchfr?' “ "’ade a Jafe

He iiarf l.„"nderfone ° ^‘^onfaon to the near and

d'ipS” i>®. cn,crta.„i„„ oc

feoV±=.,?f

and in that ^ ^o a cerf'-^"'^ "'as becomi’n noticing
to the "plif bim P^'t^nt into?h5 ^Te

“Lyoflrl^^nsonages'' ® introduce L'm ™aisafion
"'ard orNS^ovi4 was t.f. ^ ^ bme

? Ivan?ife4ndreve4fJl^ °n the death of h'

»vhshtchev '' I ^ parents a
he nil#- in

"'aJrTdr/°bea;,P„, be put in,

now T i“°^ad. When T ^'^nv'ed the Jpff .,

bers about your

528

MvsWcin asked, with

•■DidyoiisecmevihcnIwaBac , "At

T T ’+n f?o pretty remember. . • •

nZfcrhlvZ whefe

were then . • • yo^ ctruck on one occasi® • ^^.armth.

that I was very much . ,, j^jyshkin asserted ^

•1 don’t remember at the par

A few more words of P areat agitabon mai

hat I was very Myshk^^ oi^ the part

•1 don’t remember at °the part of

A few more words ^p^ving great agitab , jp-iy maiden

of Ivan Petrovitch, and | the Uyo elderly

Myshkin, Allowed, mid ^nl^brought up, were

ladies, kinswomen of Pa us j^jyshkin had been b g as

vio+nvprhovo. and by whom ^ y was ^ +r> take

md it appeared ti^ his estate,

ladies, kinswomen uf h^^’^AlyJhwXSten brought
a.„;=rhovo -dby The latt« 5 « Bke

also cousins of Ivan trtnce. “It hadn t.

ivervone else to oxp i^rnleRC the little pri , hut yet, it

so much ^J^uuble oyer curious abou remembered

in fact, occurred to me memory, fo , , ^ .^yith

appSed that he had Mikitistam bad ^

h^ow severe his Vafon one occasion I stood up ly hut
her Uttle pupil. ‘ =0 th^Xatiou- and hoW

attackedher system of _ y°}'? was to the poor

the rod with an luva ^latalya Nibibsh • pj.gyince now

tender the younger sist , ,, ^ ^gj,t on, lu ^ where

S’'”?®?, ; V s I

Pavhshtchev lelt wanted to g gise ^^s,

believe Marfa he thinking ot som „

won’t be sure, ^ about a <^°‘itor ^ghght and

heard that the other da^ j^h eyes shmiug ^jg^er

Myshkin *n‘in ooSSmiW “>

emoSon. havinB iSSfnp, though he had

forgive himself for nor brought him ^ had been meM-

and visit the ^ta Se cenWl f “’^rconfinually occup.ed

been for six montnsm ^ had been ^gtermined . • •

[nTto set ofi ^^^But that now be was ^ Province,

vith other matte^ • gjj thou^ What a fine, what a

!e would certmnly • •^•^lyj.I^.kitishna? ^tiar^^^^^ _ _ _

"5° y°^,^But, Wa Ntk'tislma’ ^ihighnal- She

e“would certam^y ^^J^aMikitishna? wnar^au^^,^^ _ _ _

• • ‘‘S°y°pi But, Marfa yiikit^u-t^^rf^^^ She

aintly ^naW tu -a to4.?SS-wa;

.. 1 But, iM-ari<>-/’ -upni- Marfa JNiKiubudiea.-

aintly mature I ^ uiistaken about M ^ patience

out 1 think you j^ow oouM she u P ^now 1

'antdiot as I was then. Ha ha
with such an 529

complete idiot.

Q “ • • . iiowisittCVr '

"Oh ^eirovitch with '

in W' e t say that k ' ^ s^ile,

-r o„‘r ““'■' I ' i,- ■ do«beod i,

5s.n-£fi=s-

iS ;:r:

pany.^ He p^^rox^ mbtude to so^Z to feeJ

vitch be™ ^ bubble bimself. if nZZ something,
too beSff "-itfa h?nL? ^bole col

konsk^]ont°j“5 at him^Zlh^ ^ore hxedZ^fu ^cfro-

PnncZpt Yp "^^tuIjy^Af^cat intentnJs' P^- '^‘Snitaiy"

broke off tjf ^avJovftr-h and Byelo-

^Shtened conveS^n ^' ^"°ce S tbef^^^od her lips-

too, the J^aveta Protnf ^ Lsfenpr? ^°ong ladies, all
bad forespp°^^^^ heart fa 'i j ^^^ta seemed

^'■t s® decided fw"?' beSvP^''^'^ *or. They.

him ?dent the whji? be beftV^i,^^^-^ ^ they

position thp ^ comnJetr^ ;?, evening. Rnf ^ ^shkm to
•'a on th;^ atoZ/f^^^e. perfecHv ^s they

point of goini t^ uo'sef bis

6 TO turn across thpl^ -^texandra had
530 aai and tactfully

••You are right in paying J^mniessively, with no smile noiv.
Ivan Petrovitch Pronounced imF^j Excellent and worthy, ,
"Yes, yes, he was an oxcelle nil respect,

!;:SedmStoFS^^^ “ _

““in"? S Paiishtch^

Sb?; : '.'r^y^eve^^body was tatong J°X?ti5 SmeEg.
the "dignitary" brought ou as ,. jvan Petrovitch re

‘•With the Abbe Goureau, a J excellent and worthy

called. "Yes, there you have jr m^t^e

people. Because he was atte to remain m the sem •

a kammerherr, if he had . • • service to go ,

. And then he suddenly uuew up ^ open^,

the Roman Church and become^ J nick of tune

with a sort of enthusiasm. It s true,

■ '^ytS\vS{Tsidfi^^ ^^^nt over to tlie Roman

Chumh^EpEiblej" ho eri^d in honor.^^

. . . However you have sue ^ f^^tured man, and t h

. . He certainly was a “ost gooU Goureau. But a^K

chiefly attribute the success afterwards over t ,

me what a fuss and hotlier I had Only fauej^, he

. . . especially with fhat ^ "they even tried to p
turned Lddenly to the oid ^ed^to have rocou^^

claim under the ivill, and I w^ iorce^ ^ S Xn-

most, that is, to vigorous me^ ^ ^ of ihiug-

senses ... for they’re first^teat^t^^^ happened m

derful people 1 But, thfu g ^ vve soon . • •

Moscow^. 1 went straight to the court,
them to their senses. grieve and asto

"You wouldn’t believe how you g

cried Myshkin. ^ - of fact, all this w - ^

"I am sorry. But as a u^ftter ot ^nioke as su«

a trifling business and w’oul summer,

things aW da-- convmced^ot

«pcd,„; SSL •"“ -■'X'-^c.TSoS'’''' ™‘ " ,

■ft all comes from ' ' * '

*'■' “'I

?care people Thn P^'^^f'ar to tliem proselyUsing

-- ‘a

, '■«« yo„ S “ “'idL®;"'*’ *“"■ pJ

at the' SpLJbfc “ ■^‘f“''' ”^™old^Si; ''

»Wch OTC doSn't h '“.“S'"'"®

He^S'l^^SSufSiSV®,' aSed*°'“^'"''‘- ""'" ,

"PaviishtchS" Ittason become aaSbi^t'''^^'*’’ “°t® alosely.

genuine ChnsKan^^^,^ clear-headeti m ^ to him.

could he have ' brouph^ a Christian, a

Cathohdsm is Zc a faifh^^^ o“t suddenly. "Ho'.v

suddenly, loni-fn as an unchri<;h'a ’ unchristian .t*

scaiming the whof tu'm with f^a added

, "Confe, company. ^^shmg eyes as though

An unchrisHn ^°and in his rh •'^^®t3anreligion,"said
« extreme adtpH “ tlS£ . .T^a.tisitthen?"

.^e second plfce J?n° "'^th excessi-w 'k Myshkin began,

itself, in my onln? tSatholicfenril ® ®^™ptncss. "And in
preaches a neeatt’nn^ u that's mv than atheism

a distorted Christ tI!athohcism^o'^*”i^°”f Atheism only

the oSf^^^^'®tcal^Sef^i'^"^• ft preaches
declare it doe^^ r Christ! It defamed bv them-

haye ^’t doesl^ Antichrist, I

Catholicism cannof distressed m the conviction I
^apremacy. ' ■ • Koman

possKwmt^m t aaiversal political
532 thinking Roman

V ^

Catholicism is not oven » ''SVa'’“anf”o5'ly^ng°ta

tion of the Western Srin with. The Pope seized

subordinated to that idea, , .rraSed the sword;

the earth, an earthly throne, they have added to

has gone on in the sarne ticism, superstition,

the sword lying, fraud, trutlitul. sincere, few

They have trifled witlr ^e ^^^t ^^red it all, all for money,
feelmgs of the people; ^ey ha b teaching ^

for base earthly power. _ from them? Atheism

Christ? How could atheism fail to r hS

has sorung from Roman Cathoucisn themselves? It has

S^JtSselves. Can they “XlnTit is
been strengthened by ^o'^alsion , Atheism 1 Among
Uieir lying and their spintual “"Pi'Jgon't believe, those .»ho.
it is 0 Vthe exceptional ' ^ " seed it the other day,

as Yeveenv Pavlovitch splendidly P .p. pg a ternble ma-
toeSheir roots. Bat »''f ’i”lo» their fa.m-at

of the people themselves are begin ^g^^ fanabcism an

first from darkness and 1^ Ectianitv ” u • <j fear-

hatred of the Church and had been talking fear

Myshkin paused to take f*:t.rss They all glanced f

“^ioterWfrfSSS

kSlSatrSTlysUdn. ■"'^‘^^“vhht 3“‘"' ®Ue on

c.r« and moved noaret o , h d,a*d

"You are exaggerating very much, ashamed of s°m

with an air of being bored, an Church '

thing. "There are representatives or

virtuous and worthy of afl I'eaPf • j | representahves

"1 have said nothing about i Qg^tholicism in As *1 ^
Church. I was speaking of Rom^ disappear altogeth
1 am speaking of Rome. Can a ;ndeed

I never said that!” ‘ nnwrn and — ^irrelevant,

"I agree. But all that’s well knm^ ana ^

and . . . it’s a theological ques , gjcal question, I

"Oh, no, no I It’s not only ^.^“fg^losely than you thmK^

you it's not! It concerns us muc .g^pt see that &i -pgs

That’s our whole mistake, tha -i^Y socialism too P ^gj
exclusively a theological ,n^’ea !

horn CatLlicism and the to Catholicism

atlieism, it comes from despair m oppo=n

moral side fn i

h'r ™ •«

individuality iratelnir^ dare to

dieir works ye sha 1 two P^°Perty and

™agine that aU tlS^- tliem__J iieadsl' By

Oii« we need in i^armless anri vu -^d don’t

whom we hive W*" at oSle'''a?°“^ “s.

fortJi and vanquiKe w neve? krf“'

by Not JettTn J?^,-*^?™ ™nst shine

civilisation to them Jesuits but^ra i^e slavishly

said amon7?^; ^ st^a L our Russian

/•*' -0. :::,: “

io Petrovitch, growing

wortlty and full of n ^<ieas, of coursp°^^^''^^^ beginning
die extreme, and ^ i^^^^^bsm. but all dhs '• P™^'

Neb ..." • • . in fact, we ha, -I exaggerated in

>. it’s not exa.

nnderstatfr? u.. ®^®&?eratcd: it’c

• . ." • • • in fact, we ha,t i, */ exaggerated in

>. it’s not exa. '=^°P

^ """ o?tS2?'

gazed with a a speaking, and ctf^.-

“J fancy you ha ^‘^^ent look at Tv in his chair

your

'wth unruffled com?n digmw'^.-n^ ^y ^bat happened

perhaps from “You observed.

to see mo?e o?J • « you Zre to IT^ “^'erirdent . . .’
fs a remarkahlo ^ world, I evnar-f ™°^e among people
iess excitable lnd°^5 dien.^o/c^um'™*^'^ wekom^d
■ . and besides would see thaf if • would grow

Pai% to our being 6/l..^^’'^®f’douaI cases ar?^d^ simpler

eo, just sol " pertly to our bam ^ ™y opinion
Nst from duEf V ''^ed being • • bored.”

°° *be contrary from°™ dullness ^dea! It’s

blase. There vo??^'^®^dsfiedyearaini^ ^ being htee.

y arnmgs, but^from ?'®^efcen. j^ot simni ‘ i °°^from being

caii don’t thinir fh'^T'^bness, from unsatisfied

pan afford to 7, that it's m c. u burning thirst Anri

^bi-n%!X?o^ -e

as Russians feel thn ahead

^ N 234 ground under their

feet and are confident that they have reached firm ground, they
are so delighted at reaching it tliat they rush at once to the
farthest limit. Why is that? You are surprised at Pav-
lishtchev, and you put it down to madness on his part, or to
simplicity. But it’s not that! And Russian intensity in such
cases is a surprise not to us only but to all Europe. If one of
us turns Catliolic, he is bound to become a Jesuit, and one of
the most underground. If he becomes an atheist, he’s sure to
rJa.TOonr ior Uje* sxtirpa.iion oi belief in God by force, that is, by
tlie sword. Why is this, why such frenzy? You must surety
know! Because he has found the fatherland which he has
missed here. He has reached the shore, he has found the land
and he rushes to kiss it. Russian atheists and Russian Jesuits
are the outcome not only of vanity, not only of a bad, vain
feeling, but also of spiritual agony, spiritual thirst, a craving
for something Iiigher, for a firm footing, for a fatherland in
which they have ceased to believe, because tliey have never even
known it I It’s easier for a Russian to become an atheist than for
anyone else in the world. And Russians do not merely become
atheists, but they invariably believe in atheism, as though it
were a new religion without noticing that they are putting faith
in a negation. So great is our craving! ‘He who has no roots
beneath him has no god.’ That’s not my own saying. It was
said by a merchant and Old Believer, whom I met when I was
travelling. It’s true he did not use those words. He said : ’The
man who has renounced his fatherland has renounced his god.’
Only think that among us, even highly educated people join the
sect of Flagellants. Though why is that worse than nihilism,
Jesuitism, or atheism? It may even be rather more profound!
But that’s what their agony has brought them to. Reveal to
the yearning and feverish companions of Columbus the 'New
World’, reveal to the Russian the ‘world’ of Russia, let him
find the gold, the treasure hidden from him in the earth ! Show
him tile whale at harnanky, rising sgain, and renewed by
Russian thought alone, perhaps by the Russian God and Christ,
and you rvill see into what a mighty and truthful, what a wise
and gentle giant ho will grow, before the eyes of the astounded
world; astounded and dismayed, because it expects of us nothing
but the sword, nothing but the sword and violence, because,
judging us by theinselves, the other peoples cannot picture us
free from barbarism. That has always been so hitherto and
goes on getting mom so 1 And ..."

But at this point an incident took place, and the speaker’s

535

^focjuence i*'nf i

up and fiiml agitated words

suggestive of somefJdn •'’aotiier

young man who ’’a tJie

uothing. Thncn broken out co ^ condition of the

Jiensively (and s?mf "r ^"aw Alyshldn*^'^"^-^’, ‘"^Prapos of

"’Wah w^^o out^f%°^ 'Wth sha^ 'v^ndpred, appre-
restraint, vifh Scoping ;vith his Unhu \ outbreak,
uistinctivcfeehWnr? Peculiar tact ^'P'^'^ance and

"■bat It was duetto vv, P*’°P”a<3'. They con Jrt° bfs

tchev coiiJd not lnv‘^ i^^ ^en tok? “aidarstand

bun from their enrtf ^^a cause of ft Ti”’ PavJfsii-

senses, and Princess n' P*°”gii lie had at

another minute ci -^yaJokonsky conf^c ^aave of his

gentJemen were aim have taken to^ I ‘^PF''"’ards that in

‘^.cliiefof " P'sconcerted ij S jfr
?t him from his looked sfenili "f amazement;

inimobihty. The^e^ colonel of ehein"^ displeasure

I's artificial smile S?" Positively turned ns?? in absolute
they werfi f!.l.;__ .’. ooking at the pale, but still smilnri

they were takrnw'if “'c rest of tim ' ' smiica

Pave ended i^fhe m? "" ani tJm wLio??""^ ^^e how

™nute, Genemi r^o^t ordinarv anri r. scandal’' might
‘bough hegrasSdf?^"?"'’' "’i another

severaj attemn£ 1 situation sooner^h????"”"^^ astonished,
he Sreadv bad made

resolute desien r 'vay towTrrii, i' i^ut failing in his

been necessaty" niinute he wn?'ri ^ P™ and

°“t of tlie roS h, n ‘Pa oxtrcm?sfpr«fiP‘'''^''P^' Pad it
"'hjch Would, verhaJ^^^u^^ "'ay on the Afyshkin

general fuHv hli- ™aps, have been fi,« P^atext of his beine HI

«ra/StaS''‘’ '■«■ SmT'' "■'"■'O ‘i'"'

^“bebegiS? i, scene had a very

room, he "’ben Myshkin c

"ase about whiS^A /'i'^'alf as far dmwing-

beyond belief w bad so scarerf?^'^^^ *'°ai the china
^ag conviction ^glaia's words the ?' almost

obsessed him thV L P^°dpgious and inrl^vL a haunt-
bowever carefully h? 1^°“ P® ®oce to ^ Presentiment

disaster. But so Tf ^ ^^P‘ away from .> ^^be vase next day

oPfh^T ™Pcessionr?’r? n" course oflhp ‘° avoid the
^ ‘bat already, vj^f^ b°"'ed into hi/coni ‘’‘bar and

He forgot his presSirimen spoken

536 P '^on he had

Peneral

heard Pavlishtchev’s lum again to I^n P^^^

S brought innrfonvardand^f^^^^^ ^"^Sna vasfwbiS

rovitch, he near ^ behind him.

stood on a -^n^. Ss Solder and

At his last "n^^^omehow twitching ^

cautiously '^^ve ^ scream of ^pon the head of

, . . there ^l^s a general .whether to f ah upon

at fimt, -(-igrnan, in&.

7. . there was Voting

at first, as though hesi^mg^^^^^jy r\”?”£.raid^n alarm.

some old gentle . poet, who ®^'PP^ p^ the priceless

direction, towards tl crash, a scream, astonish-

il craved to ^ the «»>?«*. Cl and “

Iragments '«=re toatte “?J‘'i“- 5 „rt?e n.«a* ”°‘ S

ment — ^what ''^s y describe! Bm very

perhaps nnnece=^ry,^^^^^^ .^T^lls^of other confused

mention one odd s above *e m^ ^ scandal,

minute, and stood out ^ not the shame, n^^^
and strange f nsahn" ^ ^^^ppgss of ^ *nt imp ,vas

not the fnght, nor the s ^.ppld not e p gnpped

hut liis foreknowledge h?. ^rrOT thJt was almost

so arrestmg about to sPU m a f ^ ^geiped opening

5 eSt»*^i”StS g‘Jrf

S Sed Mg time “‘gjj “e u^dfratodh pericdjy

Ground him, or radier. he ^ h he

In" llw%verything.^bm ^rsonieone imusible m

had no skare m '^iJted^ SmF He saw fcem

had crept mto ^ though c^versations, saw Aglaia,

he had no conc^^^^ rapid eonv po

picking up * .|Lnecly at him. /^cs^he was looking at

|ale, l°°kifJd S ’ hifS’was so much affec-

amazement tha notlung had happ huP

^ae .Heed,, »d

at his ^rT: 537

^ympatlieUc of all • h was thp *°°’

squeeze of it an^ ' Myshkin ’<= u charming and

P»n lita«l,S“lf ''Sl-l pat w,&ii’“”.'i “0 with a®fS;?

TlW - • . .

failed him; he stiil unabJe fn Pleasure into

, ''^^^hat! '' breath
too, Li7Pi„.f. at last ° much.

TiieJaughter^S^'^J'"'^-'’' ’ ^°^g^ve me? You,

eyes— he cohIh J, ^ M“der than ever T

"'as a “ if hJjt? Myshkin's

last fiftLn io be sure T '' ^ enchanted,

beginning. >’“••. fifteen ” ''^^^^ber it here for

A terrible di«cf • " • • • Ivan Petrovitch

and, and all this ^ 5’ “^aedf Even a m.
fyevna, in a hud Cn^ a day potP^c."^T®^ i° an

r-'-sSr:

"s ™ufiStt£””' “*’ '’" "■» »'■* ™“

Myshkin mav speakine- h’n '"bispered across

rather loudly.

ihere‘

:P3§p:i?^sss

'^appy looking I am onlv

""nstspeak. ifn 3^0“- Perhaps I'm feju- 3'ou, I'm
®“at explain . . ^ if nonsense, but I

cos ^ mom self-respect. ..."

All he said and did was spasmodic, confused, feverish. It is
.quite likely that the words lie uttered were often not those he
intended to rise. His eyes seemed to ask wlicther he might
speak. His glance fell upon Princess Byclokonsky.

"It's all right, my dear boy, go on, go on, only don’t be in
such haste,” she observed. “You began in such a breathless
huny' just now, and j'ou see what came of it; but don't be
afraid to talk. These ladies and gentlemen have often seen
queerer folk than you. They won’t be suiprised at j'ou. And
yon arc not so very remarkable, either. You've done noUring
but break a vase and given us all a fright.”

Myshkin listened to her, smiling.

"Why, it was you,” he l^gan, addressing the old "dignitary”,
“it was you who saved a student called Podkumov and a clerk
called Slivabrin from e-xile llirce months ago."

The old man positively flushed a little, and muttered tliat he
must calm himself.

"And, I think it’s you. I’ve heard,” he turned at once to
Ivan Pelro%'itch, "who gave jmur peasants timber to rebuild
tlieir huts when they were burnt out, though tliey were free and
had given you a lot of trouble?”

"Oh, that's e.x-ag-gcra-ted,” muttered Ivan Petrovitch,
though with an air of dignified pleasure.

But tills time it was true that Myshkin’s words were "exag-
gerated"; it was only an incorrect rumour that had reached him.

"And did not you,” he went on, addressing Princess B3'elo-
konsky, "receive me six months ago in Moscow, as though I
had been your won son, when Lizaveta Prokofyevna ivrote to
you. And, exactly as tliough I had been your own son, you
gave me one piece of advice which I shall never forget. Do you
icnicmber?"

"Why are you in such a taking?” said Princess Byeloko^sk3^
witli vexation. "You’re a good-natured fellow but absurd. If
someone gives you a halfpenny you thank him as though he had
saved your life. You tliink it praiseworthy, but it’s disgusting.”

She was on the verge of being angry, but suddenly burst out
laughing, and tliis time her laughter was good-humoured.
I.izaveta Prokofyevna's face brightened too; General Epanchin
beamed.

"I said that Lyov Nikolayevitch was a man ... a man
... if only he wouldn't be in such a hurry, as the princess
observed. . . General Epanchin murmured in rapture, re-
pealing Princess Byelokonsky’s words, which had struck him.

539

PolroWtl"^ '''am.iDs,- u„ ,, "“a''. i»rtap

« i(h in“S'“ Wih ansuis^ ■ raollored apii

and mot^ emotion ”iy heart " xr

““i

J’S-' '®""S vw'^ °'^odoni C''‘ a« Uio be

• • . I’ve aliv it \vic ^J'self, am r

than \vhV^ too m ve!^ ^ wantec

your intern-# ^ Sood- of necessaijd

>'0“r ridiculou^i s(aemfin°“^ Pettiness fh^*^ 3'°“-

^""PpS S f

r « eo S-iiSSiJ

nien . ' stiJi pe ^{amed of Z i ^ nothing

scions that',-# fufum ^ a peth, „ ^ij^'ent life and

before^ h I'Mf in their S

^ongstus there 'n^ Quif^f k

'‘^?*nt,aJdn^^'Perhaprth b?en in this

. *^o, jt'o "'^^^^sqnifp j- ®*'®ur(ier5 hv, npper class

conically ■ ^ght at '.?33peared. Thar?^^°P” nr... by
'7W w „ ^ ' ^^id Ivan isn’t it?"

patience. ^ ^ ^gafn/'^ <;g-, smiling^

^e's trembvj "" ^y^^ohonsky, losing
fvchJ", undertone ovp. ^

.--Wite. - « 6 <unt" ggj-- . '

‘hem in”an'^y ^®'s tremblin ^y^okonsky, Josing

^^J^hk^ h ail over "fia ,

''And what ft ‘^r^P^ntely Jost ^ ° ^ warned

and clevf-r T find? r i control nf i--

warm-hearted ’ ^“ssian, and PcopJe reaH a boy

Pfge xvhat a h r ihew aS 1° “^"ieisfand

^io xvorS I u^^Shtlul sunriT ^^°st their and

ah reahh, but man “ fuliv j/pJ-^ put it

=»“y was eairES*?'

see noxv for f?™s, and
540 myseJf that that

cannot be ki ainongfet us; that may be anj’wlierc else but not in
ilussia. Can you al! be Jesuits and frauds? I heard Prince N.
tell a story just now. Wasn't that simple-hearted, spontaneous
humour; \va.sn't it genuine frankness? Can such sayings come
from tlic lips of a man . . , who is dead; whose heart and
talent have run city'? Could the dead have treated me as y'ou
have treated mo? Isn't it material ... for tlie future, for
hope? Can such people lag behind and fail to understand?"

"I beg you again; calm yourself, my' dear boy. We'll talk
about all this another time. I shall be delighted ..." smiled
the old "dignitaiy".

Ivan Petrovilch cleared his throat and turned round in his
chair; General Epanclun made a movement; the chief of the
department began talking to the old "'dignitary’s" wife, paying
not the s!ightc.st attention to My'shkin; but tlie ‘'dignitary’s"
wife frequently' h'stencd and glanced at liim.

"Mo, it's better for me to speak, y'oii know," Myshkin began
again, with another feverish outburst, addressing the old man
with peculiar trustfulness, and as it were, confidentially. "Yes-
tciday’, Aglaia Ivanovna told me not to talk, and even told mo
what'cubjccts not to talk about; she knows I’m absurd on those
subjects. I'm twenty'-seven, but I know that I’m like a cliild. I
have no right to c.\prcss an opinion. I’ve said liiat long ago.
It’s only witli Rogozhin in Moscow that I’ve talked openly. We
read Pushkin togctlicr. the whole of him. He knew nothing of
him, not even the name of Pushkin. . . . I'm always afraid
that my absurd manner may' discredit tiie thought or the leading
idea. I have no elocution. My gestures are alw.ay's inappro-
jiriatc, and tliat makes people laugh, and degrades my ideas.
I've no .sense of proportion either, and that's tlie great thing;
that’s the chief thing in fact. ... I know it’s belter for me
to sit still and keep quiet. When I persist in keeping quiet, I
seem very sensible, and wliat's more I think things over. But
now it’s better for me to talk. I’m talking because you look at
me so nicely: you have such a nice face! I promised Aglaia
Ivanovna yesterday that I’d be silent all the evening 1"

"Vraimcnl!" smiled the old dignitary.

"But sometimes I think th.it I am not right in thinking that.
Sincerity is more important than clocuUon, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

"Soniefimes."

"I ivant to e.vpiain eveiything, eveiytlung, everything!
Oh, y’cs! You think I’m Utopian? A theorist? My' ideas arc
really all so simple. . . . Don’t you believe it I You smile?

54T '

Y^ou know I'm contemptible sometimes, for I lose my faith.
As I came here just now, I wondered: ‘How shall I talk to
them? With what words shall I begin, so that they may under-
stand a little?’ How frightened I was, but I was more fright-
ened for you. It was awful, awful 1 And yet, how could I be
afraid? Wasn't it shameful to be afraid? What does it matter
that for one advanced man there is such a mass of retrograde
and evil ones? That’s what I’m so happy about; that I’m con-
vinced now that there is no such mass, and tliat it’s all living
material? There’s no reason to be troubled because we're
absurd, is there? You know it really is true we’re absurd, that
we’re shallow, have bad habits, that we’re bored, that we don’t
know how to look at things, that we can't understand; we’re all
like that, all of us, 5'ou, and I, and they! And you are not
offended at my telling you to your faces that you’re absurd?
Are you? And if that’s so, aren’t you good material? Do
you know, to my thinking it’s a good thing sometimes
to be absurd; it’s better in fact, it makes it easier to forgive
one another, it’s easier to be humble. One can’t under-
stand everytliing at once, we can’t begin with perfection all at
once! In order to reach perfection one must begin by being
ignorant of a great deal. And if we understand tilings too
quickly, perhaps we shan’t understand them thoroughly. I say
that to you who have been able to understand so much already
and . . . have failed to understand so much. I am afraid for
you now. You are not angry at a boy hke me for saying such
things to you? Of course you’re not! Oh, you know how to
forget and to forgive those who have offended you and those
who have not offended you, for it's always more difficult to
forgive those who have not offended one, and just because
they’ve not injured one, and that therefore one’s complaint of
them is groundless. That’s what I expected of the best people,
that’s what I was in a hurry to tell you as I came here, and
did not know how to tell you. . , . You are laughing, Ivan
Petrovitch? You think Uiat I was afraid for them, that I'm
their champion, a democrat, an advocate of equality?” he
laughed hysterically (he had been continually breaking into
short lauglis of delight). “I’m afraid for you, for all of you,
for all of us together. I am a prince m3^elf, of ancient family,
and I am'sitting with princes. I speak to save us all, that our
class may not vanish in vain; in darkness, without realising
an3dhing, abusing everything, and losing everything. Why
disappear and make way for others when we might remain in

542

advance and bo tlie leaders? If we are advanced we shall be
the leaders. Let us be servants in order to be leaders.”

He began to try to get up from his chair, but the old man still
held him, Uioiigh he looked at him with growing uneasiness.

"Listen! I know it's not right to talk. Better set an example,
better to begin. ... I have already begun . . . and — and —
can one really be unhappy? Oh, what does my grief, what does
my sorrow matter if I can be happy? Do you know I don't
know how one can walk by a tree and not be happy at the
sight of it? How can one talk to a man and not be happy
in loving liimi Oh, it’s only that I’m not able to express it.

. . . And what beautiful tilings there are at every step, that
even the most hopeless man must feel to be beautiful 1 Look at
a child! Look at God’s sunrise! Look at the grass, how it
grows! Look at the eyes that gaze at you and love you ! . . .”

He had for some time been standing as he talked. The old
man looked at him in alarm. Lizaveta Prokofyevna cried out:
"Ah, my God!” and tlirew up her hands in dismay, the first
to realise what ^vas wong.

Aglaia quickly ran up to him. She was in time to catch him
in her arms, and with horror, with a face distorted with pain,
she heard tlie wild scream of the “spirit tearing and casting
down the unhappy man”.

The sick man lay on the carpet. Someone hastened to put a
pillow under his head.

No one had expected this. A quarter of an hour later. Prince
N., Yevgeny Pavlovitch, and the old dignitary were trying to
restore tlie liveliness of the company, but within half an hour
the party had broken up. Many words of sj^mpathy and regret
were uttered, a few comments were made. Ivan Petrovitch
remarked that “the young man was a Slavophil or something
of the sort, but that there was nothing very dangerous about
that, how’ever". The old dignitary expressed no opinion. It's
true that later on, next day and tlie day after, everyone who
had been present seemed rather cross. Ivan Petrovitch was
positively offended, but not seriously so. The cliief of the
department was for some time rather cold to General Epanchin,
The old dignitary, who was their "patron”, mumbled something
by way of admonition to the father of the family, though in
flattering terms he expressed the deepest interest in Aglaia’s
future. He really was a ratlier good-hearted man; but one
reason of the interest he had taken in Myshkin that evening
was the part that the prince had played in the scandal con-

543

nccted with Nastasya Filippovna. He had heard something of
the story and had been much interested by it, and would have
liked indeed to ask questions about it.

Princess Byelokonsky said to Lizaveta Prokofyevna as shi
look leave that evening ;

“Well, there's good and bad in him. And if you care to know
my opinion, there’s more bad than good. You can see for your-
selves what he is, a sick man!"

Madamw Epawcbvw made wp her mind, nnce for all, that as a
bridgegroom he was "impossible”, and tliat night she vowed
to herself that "as long as slie was living, he should not be the
husband of Aglaia". She got up in the same mind next morn-
ing, But in the course of the morning, by lunch-time at one
o’clock, she was drawn into contradicting herself in an extra-
ordinary w'ay.

In reply to her sisters’ carefully-guarded question, Aglaia
replied coldly, but haughtily, as it were, rapping it out :

"I've never given him a promise of any sort, I've never in
my life looked on him or thought of him as my betrothed. He
is no more to me than anyone else.”

Lizaveta Prokofyevna suddenly flared up,

"That I should never have expected of you,’’ she said with
chagrin. "As a suitor he’s out of the question, I know', and
thank God that we’re agreed about it. But I didn’t expect such
words from you. I looked for something very different from
you. I’d be ready to turn away all those people who were here
last night and to keep him. That's what I think of liim 1 . . .”

At that point she stopped short, frightened at her w’ords.
But if only she had knowT, how unjust she was to her daughter
at that moment! Everything was settled in Aglaia’s mind. She
too was waiting for the hour that was to decide everything,
and every hint, every incautious touch dealt a deep wound to
her heart.

CHAPTER VIII

F or Myshkin, too, that morning began under the influence
of painful forebodings; they might be explained by his in-
valid state, but his sadness was quite indefinite, and that was
what made it most distressing to him. It is true that painful,
mortifying facts stood \'ividly before him, but his sadness went
beyond everything he remembered, and tire reflections tliat fol-
lowed that memory. He realised that he could not regain his
serenity alone. By degrees the conviction took root in Mm that

544

sometiling special, something decisive, would happen to him
tliat very day. His fit of the previous evening had been a slight
one. Besides depression and a certain weariness in his head and
pain in his limbs, he had notliing the matter witli him. His brain
worked fairly accurately, though Ins soul was ill at ease. He
got up rather late, and at once clearly recalled the previous
evening. He remembered, too, though not quite distinctly, how
he had been taken home half an hour after the fit. He learnt
that a messenger had already been from the Epanchins to ask
after his health. At half-past eleven another called to inquire
and this pleased him. Vera Lebedyev was among the first to
visit him and wait upon him. She burst out crying for the first
minute when she saw him, but when Myshkin at once reassured
her slie began laugliing. He was suddenly struck by the girl’s
deep sympathy for him. He took her hand and kissed it. Vera
flushed crimson.

"Ach, what are you doing I ”• slue cried, drawing her hand
away in dismay. She went away quickly in strange confusion.
She had time though to tell him, among other things, that her
father had run off vety early to see the "departed”, as he per-
sisted in calling the general, to find out whether he had died in
the night, and it was reported, so she was told, that he was at
the point of death. At twelve o’clock Lebedyev himself came
home, and went in to Myshkin, not merely "for a minute to
inquire after his precious health”, and so on, but also to look
into the cupboard. He did nothing but sigh and groan and
Myshkin soon dismissed him; yet he made an attempt to ques-
tion the prince about his fit the previous evening, though it was
evident he knew full details about it already. After him Kol3'a
ran in also for a minute. He really was in a hurry, and was
in great and painful agitation. He began by directly and in-
sistently begging Myshkin for an explanation of aU that they
had been concealing from him, asserting that he had learnt
almost everything the day before. He was deeply and violently
distressed.

With all possible sympathy M3rshkin told him the whole story,
relating the facts with absolute exactness, and it fell like a
thunderbolt on the poor boy. He could not utter a word and
wept in silence. Myshkin felt that this was one of those im-
pressions which remain for ever and mdke a turning-point in a
young life. He hastened to give him his view of the case, add-
ing that in his opinion the old man’s death might principally be
due to the horror inspired by his own action, and that not every-

545

SsS toXsS:i°n. he

I’niSt^Lg to q{^^i‘r;P'‘”3--a and Varya and Ptitsyn!
this moment. Ah^ prince I've h?rl

yesterday! It’s a ksson for me I “I"" ^®^hngs since

too, is entirely my resDonsihiliH/ J^ I_ consider ftat my mother,
at Vaiya’s, that's SiSj °°w; ttough she’s provided W

hurrieiy SLd^kfte?™jiS'^heilft'''“ ®^Pected at home,
answer, added in haste: ^ health, and hstening to the

no right) . . ^ bS ri^oulver want^V“??^^ (though I’ve
purpose, here he is before von uL servant for any

of us not quite hannv fh though we’re both

anything, I do^t a^k^; But ... I don’t ask

Ev?tyrn?^wrpre“c&r^m-'f brooding,

drawn conclusio^ eveivoJ!^ ^^\^.^one had already

knew something and someth;n<!°n^^n-/* though they

asks questions, Kolva dirprMt h- know, "Lebedyev

last he dismissed ^era weeps." At

sickly over-sensitiveness^’’ hf» ^ ^ accursed

when, after one o’dSc?' he saw ^^S^tencd

visit him "for a moment" -n Epanduns, who came to
moment. When Lizaveta p’roW^ ^ ^

announced that they were aU uofop^f
all together. The annnnnromo ^ walk at once and

command, diy, abruot and ™ade in the form of a

that is the mother, the girls anri^P

fyevna turned in a direction pvar^f Brince S. Lizaveta Proko-
took eveiy day. Evervonp nnd opposite to that which they
one refrained from sDeakinp^f^*” but eveiy-

Epanchm, and, as though^to^escTne^^ irritating Madame
tions, she walked in front withonfl ^ ™ reproaches or objec-
ast Adelaida obseiwed that them. At

like that and that there wa<; nn to race along

"Now then,’’ said 'If "V^ '^tung mamma up.

we’re just passing his door toming suddenly,

whatever m^y hafS-XnvaS. n may think, and

what s more, now he’s in Ironhio ' ^ stranger, and

anyhw. If any care to come fnn^^h ^ to see him

on. The way is open." ' it not you can go

546

Thej' all went in, of course. M3'shkin very properly hastened
to beg forgiveness once more for the vase and . , the scene.

"Oh, tliat's no matter," answered Lizaveta Prokofyevna.
"I don't mind about the vase, I mind about you. So now
you're aware yourself tliat there was a scene last night, that's
how if is ‘the morning after'. But it's all of no consequence,
for everyone sees now that one mustn't be hard on you. Good-
bye for the present though. If you feel strong enough, go for a
little walk and then have a nap — that’s my advice. And if
you feel disposed, come in as usual. Be sure, once for all, that
whatever happens, whatever may come you’ll always be our
friend, mine anyway. I can answer for myself . . ."

All accepted this challenge, and confirmed their mother's
sentiments. They went out, but in this simple-hearted haste
to say something kind and encouraging there lay liidden a great
deal that was cruel, of wluch Lizaveta Prokofyevna had no
suspicion. In the words "as usual” and "mine at last” — there
was again an ominous note. M5^hkin began to think of Aglaia.
It is true that she had given him a wonderful smile on going
in and again on taking leave, but she had not uttered a word,
even when the others had all made their protestations of friend-
ship, though she had looked intently at him once or twice. Her
face ^vas paler than usual, as though she had slept badly that
night. Myshkin made up his mind that he would certainly go
to them diat evening "as usual” and he looked feverishly at
his watch. Vera came in just three minutes after the Epanchins
had gone.

"Aglaia Ivanovna gave me a message for you just now, in
secret, Lyov Nikolayevitch,” she said.

Myshkin positively trembled.

"A note?"

"No, a message. She had hardly time for that, even. She
begs you earnestly not to be away from home for one minute
all to-day, up till seven o’clock this evening, or till nine o’clock,

I couldn't quite hear.”

“But why so? What does it mean?"

"I know notliing about it. Only she was very earnest that I
sliould give you the message.”

"Did she say 'very earnest’?”

"No, she didn't say that. She j'ust managed to turn round
and speak, as I luckily ran up to her myself. But I could see
from her face whether she %vas in earnest over it. She looked
at me so that she made my heart stop beating. . , .”

547

After asking a few more questions Myshkin was more agitated
than ever, though he succeeded in learning nollitng more. Wlwn
he was Idt alone, he lay dowm on tlie sofa and fell to musing
again.

"Perhaps tliey have a visitor there till nine o'clock and she's
afraid I may do something silly before visitors again," he
thought at last, and began again impatiently waiting for even-
ing and looking at his watch. But the mystery was solved long
before tlic evening, and the solution also was brought by a
visitor, and took the form of a new and agonising mystery.

Just half an hour after the Epanchins' visit, Ippolit came in
to him, so tired and exhausted that, entering without uttering
a word, he literally fell, almost unconscious, into an easy chair,
and instantly broke into an insufferable cough. He coughed till
the blood came. His eyes glittered and there were hectic flushes
on his cheeks. lityslikin munnured something to him, but
Ippolit made no reply, and for a long time could onl}' motion
to Myshkin to let him alone. At last he came to himself.

"I'm goingl" he pronounced, with an effort at last, and with
a huskj' voice.

"I’ll go with you, if you like,” said Jlyshkin, getting up from
his seat and suddenly slopping short, as he recalled that he had
been forbidden to leave the house.

Ippolit laughed.

"I'm not going away from you," he went on, continually
gasping and coughing, "on the contrary, I found it necessary
to come to 3 'ou and about something important . . . but for
which I would not have disturbed you. I’m going over yonder,
and this time I believe I really am going. It’s all up! I haven’t
come for sjunpatliy, believe me ... 1 lay down at ten o'clock
to-day meaning not to get up again till the time came. But
you see I changed mj' mind and got up once more to come to
you ... so you see I had to.”

"It grieves me to look at you. You’d better have sent for
me instead of troubling to come here.”

"Well, that’s enough. You've expressed j-our regret and
enough to satisfy the requirements of politeness. . . . But I
forgot: how are you yourself?”

‘‘I’m all right. Yesterday I was . . . not quite . . .”

"I know, 1 know, the Chinese vase had the worst of it. I’m
sorry I wasn't there ! I’ve come about something. In the first
place, I’ve had the pleasure to-day of seeing Gavril Ardaliono-
vitch at a tiy'st with Aglaia Ivanovna on the green seat. I was

54S

aFtonishcd to iw how stupid a man can look, I remarked upon
it to Aglaia Ivartovna when Gnvril Ardalionovitcli had gone.
. . . You seem not to be surprifcrl at an3'fhing, prince,” lie
adder], looking inisirustfullj' at Mj'yhkin’s calm face. "To be
surprised .at nothing, tlicv’ saj', is a sign of gmat intelligence.
To my mind, it might" qui’lc as well bo a sign of great
stupiditj* . . . But I don’t mean that for you, excuse mo . . .
i am veij’’ unfortunate in nn' e,xprcssion5 to-day."

"I knew yesterday that Gavril Ardalionovitcli . .

Mv’shkin broke off, obviously confused, tliough Ippolit was
annoyed at his not l>cing surprised.

"You knew itl That's something new! But don't tell me
about it. . . . You weren’t a wtnc.ss of (he interview to-da\’,

1 suppose?"

"You saw that I was not there, since j’ouwcrc lliere3’ourself.’’

"Oh, you n)a3' have been sitting bcliind a bush somewhere.
But I'm glad, for your sake, of course, for I was beginning to
think that Gavril Ardalionovitcli — was the favourite."

"I beg you not to speak of tin's (o me, Ippolit, and in such
term.s."

"Bspcciallt' since 3'ou know all about it alrcad3'."

"You arc mistaken. I know hardl}' anything about it, and
Aglaia Ivanovna knows for a fact that I know notliing about
it. I knew nothing about their meeting, rcall3’. You say there's
been a meeting between them? Vcr3' well then, let us leave the
subject. . . ."

"But how's this? One minute j'ou know, the next you don't.
You sa3’, 'Vci3' well and let us leave it’. IBut look here, don’t
be so tnistful 1 Espcciall3’ if 3’oa don't know ainUhing about it.
You arc trustful because you don't know an3'thing about it.
And do 3’ou know what those two, the brother and sister, are
scheming for? Perliaps I'ou suspect that? Very well, very
well. I'll drop it," he added, noticing an impatient gesture
from Myshkin, "Well, I’ve come about my own affairs and I
want to . . , explain about it. Damn it all, one can’t die witli-
out explanations. It’s awful how much I e.xplain. Do t'ou care
(0 hear?”

"Speak, I'm listening,”

"But I’m changing my opinion again, tliough. I’ll begin with
Ganya, all tlie same. Would you believe it that I had an
appointment at tlic green scat to-day, too? I don't want to IcO
a lie, though. I insisted on an interview mt'sclf, I begged for
■' -remised to reveal a secret. I don’t know whether I came

549

too early (I believe I really was early), but I had no sooner sat
clown beside Aglaia Ivanovna when I saw Gavril Ardaliono-
vitch and Varvara Ardalionovna coming along, ann-in-arm,
as tlrough tlrcy were out for a walk. They both seemed much
amazed at meeting me. It was so unexpected that tliey were
quite taken aback. Aglaia Ivanovna flushed crimson, and you
may not believe it, but she was rather disconcerted, whether
because I was there or simply at the sight of Gavril Ardaliono-
vitch — ^you know what a beauty he is — anyway she turned
crimson, and ended it all in a second, very absurdly. She got
up, answered Gavril Ardalionovitch’s bow, and Varvara
Ardalionovna’s ingratiating smile, and suddenly rapped out;
T've only come to express in person my pleasure at your sin-
cere and friendly feelings, and if I am in need of them, believe
me . . .’ Then slie tumod away and the hvo went off — ^I don’t
know whether like fools or in triumph — Ganya, of course, a fool.
He couldn’t make out a word, and turned as red as a lobster
(he has an extraordinary expression of face sometimes). But
Varvara Ardalionovna seemed to understand that they must
make their escape as quickly as possible, and tliat this was quite
enough from Aglaia Ivanovna, and she drew her brother away.
She’s cleverer than he is and I’ve no doubt she's triumphant
now. I came to Aglaia Ivanovna to make arrangements about
a meeting with Nastasya Filippovna."

"With Nastasya Filippovna!’’ cried Myshkin.

"Alia! You seem to be losing your indifference and begin-
ning to be surprised. I’m glad that you’re ready to be like a
human being at last. I’ll comfort you for that. This is what
comes of serving a young lady of lofty soul. I got a slap in
the face from her to-day."

"Morally speaking?” M3'shkin could not help asking.

"Yes, not physically. I don’t think anyone would raise a
hand against a creature like me, even a woman would not strike
me now. Even Ganya wouldn’t strike me! Though I did
think he was going to fly at me at one time yesterday. . . -
I’ll bet 3'ou anything I know what you’re thinking about now.
You’re thinking, 'He mustn’t be beaten of course, but he might
be smothered with a pillow or a wet cloth in his sleep — ^in fact
one ought to. , . .’ It’s written on your face that you’re think-
ing tliat at this very second."

“I’ve never thought of such a thing,” Myshkin answered
wi& disgust. \

’1 don't know, I dreamt last night that I was smothered with

550

wet clotli by ... a man. . . . I’ll tell j'ou who it w'as —
Kogozhin! What do you think? Could a man be smothered with
a wet cloth?”

"I don't know.”

"I've heard that it can be done. Very well, we’ll drop ft.
Come, why am I a slanderer? Why did she accuse me of being
a slanderer to-da}'? And take note, it was after she’d heard
every word I had to say, and questioned me, too. . . . But
that’s just like a woman ! For her sake I’ve got into communi-
cation \vith Rogozhin, an interesting person. In her interests I
have arranged a personal interview with Nastasya Filippovna
for her. Was it because I wounded her vanity by hinting that
she enjoyed Nastasya Fih'ppovna’s 'leavings’? Yes, I did try
to impress that upon her all the time in her interest, I don’t
deny it. I wrote her two lettem in that strain, and to-day for
the third time, at our interview ... I began by telling her that
it was humiliating for her. . . . Though the word 'leavings'
wasn’t mine, but someone else’s. At Gan3'a’s, anyway, eveiy-
bodj' was saying it, and indeed she repeated it herself. So how-
can she call mo a slanderer? I sec, I see, it’s very amusing for
you to look at me now, and I bet you’re applying those stupid
verses to me :

'And on IJie gloom of my declining hour
Perchance the farewell smile of love may shine,*

Ha-ha-ha!” He went off into an hysterical laugh. "Mark,”
he gasped through a fit of coughing, "what a fellow Gan3'a
is, he talks about ‘leavings’ and what does he want to take
advantage of himself now!”

For a long while Myshkin was silent. He was horror-struck.

"You spoke of an interview with Nastasya Filippovna,” he
murmured at last.

"Hey, are you really unaware that Aglaia Ivanovna is going
to meet Nastasya Filippovna to-day? And that for that purpose
Nastas3^ Filippovna has been brought, through Rogozhin, from
Petersburg, at an invitation of Aglaia Ivanovna and by m3?
efforts, and is now staffing with Rogozhin, where she stayed
before, very near you, in the house of that woman . . . Darya
Alexeyevna ... a vor3' dubious lady, a friend of hers, and to
that very doubtful house Aglaia Ivanovna is going to-day to
have a friendly conversation wth Nastasya Filippovna, and to
decide various problems. They want to work at arithmetic.
Didn’t you know it? Honour bright?”

551 ■ . ■ , ■'

“'Tlral’s incredible I "

*'Wdl, (hat's all right if it’s incredible. But how could you
know? Though tliis is such a place, if a ily buzzes everyone
knon-s of it. But I've warned you, and yon may be grateful lo
me. Well, till we meet again — ui the nc.xt world probably. But
anoUicr thing: though I have been a cad to you, because . . . why
sliould I be a loser? kindly tell me that! For your advantage,
eh? I've dedicated my 'Confession' to her (j'ou didn’t know
that?). And how slic received it too, ha-ha! But an3^vay I’ve
not behaved like a cad to her. I’ve not done her any harm: but
she’s put me to sliamc and snubbed me . . . though I've done
jTou no hann either. If I did refer to 'leavings’ and things of
that sort, still I am telling you the day and tlie hour and the
address of their meeting, and I've let you into the whole
game . . . from resentment of course, not from generosity.
Good-bye, I’m as talkative as a stammerer or a consumptive.
Mind you take steps at once, if you deserve to be called a man.
The interview is to take place tlxis evening, that's the truth."

Ippolit went towards tlie door, but Myshkin called after him
and he stopped in tlie doorway.

"So then, according to you, Aglaia Ivanovna is going herself
to-day to Nasta-sya Filippovna?” asked Myshkin.

Patches of red came out on lus forehead and cheeks.

"I don't know for a fact, but that's probably so,” answered
Ippolit, looking round. "Yes, it must be so. Nastasya Filip-
povna couldn't go to her? And it wouldn’t be at Ganj'a's, where
there’s a man almost dead. What do you think of the general?”

"It can't be there, if only for that reason,” Mj’shkin put in.
"How could she get away even if she wanted to? You don’t
know . . . the habits of the household. She couldn't get away
from home alone to see Nastasya Filippovna. It’s nonsense!”

"Look here, prince, nobody jumps out of window, but when
the house is on fire the grandest gentleman or lady is ready to
jump out of window. YTien it’s a case of necessity, there’s
no help for it, and our young lady will even go to see Nastasya
Filippo\’na. And don't they let them go anywhere, your
young ladies?”

‘‘No, I didn’t mean that . ,

"Well, if not, she’s only to go down the steps and go straight
there, and she needn’t ever go home again. There are cases
when one may sometimes bum one’s ships and not go home
again. Life does not consist only of lunches and dinners and
Prince S.’s. I fancy you take Aglaia Ivanovna for a young lady

552

or a boarding-school miss. Wait till seven or eight o’clock. If
I were in your place, I’d send someone to be on the watch there
to catch the very minute when she comes dowm the steps. Send
Kolya. He’ll be delighted to play the spy, believe me, for your
sake, I mean . . . for cver5'thing's relative. . . . Ha-ha I”

Ippolit went out. Myshkin had no reason for asking anyone
to spy for him, even if he had been capable of doing so. Aglaia’s
command that he should stay at home was now almost ex-
plained. Perhaps she meant to come and fetch him, or perhaps
it was that she did not want him to turn up there and so had
told him to stay at home. That might be so, too. His head was
in a whirl; the whole room was turning round. He lay down on
the sofa and closed liis eyes.

In either case it vfas final, conclusive. Myshkin did not think
of Aglaia as a young lady or a boarding-school miss. He felt
now that he had been uneasy for a long time, and that it was
just something of tlus kind he had been dreading. But \vhat did
she want to see her for? A shiver lan over Myshkin’s whole
body. He was in a fever again.

No, he didn’t look on her as a child! He had been horrified
by some of her vie\vs, some of her sayings of late. He some-
times fancied that she had seemed too reserved, too controlled,
and he remembered that this had alarmed him. He had been
trying during those days not to think about it, he had dis-
missed oppressive ideas; but what lay hidden in that soul? The
thought had worried him for a long time, though he had faith
in that soul. And now all this must be settled and revealed that
day. An awful thought! And again — "that woman"! Why
did it always seem to him that that woman was bound to appear
at the last moment, and tear asunder his fate h'ke a rotten
thread? That it had always seemed so he was ready to swear
now, though he was almost delirious. If he had tried to forget,
"her” of late, it was simply because he was afraid of her. Did
he love that woman or hate her? He had not put that question
to himself once that day. His heart was clear on one point : he
knew whom he loved. ... He was not so much afraid of the
meeting of the two, not of the strangeness, not of the unknown
cause of that meeting, not of what it might lead to, whatever it
might be — he was afraid of Nastasya Filippovna. He remem-
bered a few days later that all through those feverish hours her

eyes, her glance, were before him, her words were in his ears

strange words, though little remained of them in his memory,
when those feverish hours of misery were over. Ha scarcely

553

remembored that Vera had brought him his dinner, that he ate
it, and did not know whether he slept after dinner or not. All he
knew was that he only began to see tilings clearly that evening,
when Aglaia came towards him on the veranda and he jumped
up from the sofa and went to meet her. It was a quarter past
seven. Aglaia was entirely alone, dressed simply, as it seemed
hastily, in a light burnous. Her face was pale as it had been
that morning, and her eyes glittered \vith a dry, hard light. He
had never seen such an expression in her eyes. She looked at
him attentively.

“You are quite ready,” she observed quietly, and wfe
apparent composure. "You are dressed and have your hat in
vour hand. So you’ve been warned, and I know by whom —
Ippolit?"

“Yes, he told me . . ." muttered Myshkin, more dead than
alive.

"Come along. You know that you must escort me there.
You are strong enough to go out, I suppose?”

"I’m strong enough, but . . is this possible?”

He broke off instantly and could say no more. This was his
one attempt to restrain the mad girl, and after it he followed
her like a slave. Confused as his ideas were, he realised that she
would certainly go there even without him, and that therefore he
was bound to go with her in any case. He divined how strong
her determination was. It was beyond him to check this wld
impulse. They walked in silence the whole way, scarcely utter-
ing a word. He only noticed that she knew the way well, and
when he wanted to go a rather longer way because the road was
more deserted, and suggested this to her, she seemed to listen
ivith strained attention and answered abruptly:

“It’s all the same!”

When they had almost reached Darya Alexeyevna’s abode (a
big, old, wooden house) there came down die steps a gorgeously
dressed lady with a young girl. They both got into an elegant
carriage which stood waiting at the steps, talking and laughing
loudly. They did not once glance at the approaching couple and
seemed not to notice them. As soon as the carriage had driven
off, the door instantly opened a second time and Rogozhin, who
had been waiting there, admitted Myshkin and Aglaia and
closed the door behind them.

“There’s no one in the whole house now, except us four,” he
observed aloud, and looked strangely at Myslikin.

In the first room they went into Nastasya Filippovna was

554

waiting. She too w’as dressed very simply and all in black. She
stood up to greet tlicm, but did not smile or even give Slyshkin
iter hand.

Her intent and uneasy eyes were fastened on Aglaia. The
bvo ladies sat at a little distance from one anotlicr — Aglaia on a
sofa in a corner of the room, Nastasya Filippovna at the window.
Myshkin and Rogozhin did not sit dowTi, and she did not invite
them to do so. Myshkin looked tvith pc^lexily and, as it were,
with pain at Rogozliin, but the latter still wore tlie same smile.
The silence lasted some moments.

At length an ominous look passed over Nastasya Filippovna’s
face. Her gaze grew obstinate, hard, and full of hatred, and it
was riveted all the time upon her visitors. Aglaia was evidently
confused, but not intimidated. As she walked in she scarcely'
looked at her rival, and, for the time, sat with downcast eyes, as
though musing. Once or t%vice she looked, as it were, casually
round the room. There was an unmistakable shade of disgust
on her face, as tliough she were afraid of contamination here.
She mechanically arranged her dress, and even once restlessly
dianged her scat, moving to the other end of the sofa. She Avas
hardly perhaps conscious of her actions; but their unconscious-
ness made them even more insulting. At last she looked reso-
lutely straight into Nastasya Filippovna’s face and read at once
all that was revealed in tlic ominous gleam in her rival’s eyes.
Woman understood woman. Aglaia shuddered.

"You know, of course, why I asked you to come,” she
brought out at last, but in a very low voice, and pausing once
or twice even in this brief sentence.

"No, I know nothing about it,” Nastasya Filippovna
answered, dry'ly and abruptly.

Aglaia flushed. Perhaps it struck her suddenly as strange and
incredible that she should be sitting here with that woman in
"that woman's” house and hanging upon her answer. At the
first sound of N^tasya Filippovna’s voice a sort of shiver ran
over her.'^All this, of course, "that woman” saw quite clearly'.

"You understand everything . . . but you pretend not to
understand on purpose,” said Aglaia, almost in a whisper, look-
ing sullenly at the floor.

"Why should I?” Nastasya Filippovna smiled.

"You want to take advantage of my position, of my being in
your house,” Aglaia brought out, awk\vardly and absurdly,

"You’re responsible for your position, not I,” said Nastasya
Filippovna, suddenly flaring up, "You’re not here at ray

555

invitation, but I at yours, and I don't know to this hour with
what object.”

Aglaia raised her head haughtily.

"Kestrain your tongue. That is your weapon and I've not
come to fight you witli it."

‘ 'Ah ! You have come to fight me tlien 1 Would you believe
it, 1 thought that you were . . . cleverer ...”

They looked at orie another, no longer concealing their spite.
One of them was the woman who had lately written those letters
to the other. And now it all fell to pieces at their first meeting.
And j'cl not one of the four persons in tlie room seemed at that
moment to think it strange. Myslikin, wlio would not tlie day
before have believed in the possibility of it even in a dream,
now stood, gazed and listened as though he had foreseen this
long ago. The most fantastic dream seemed to have changed
suddenly into tlie most vivid and sharply defined reality. One
of these women, at tliat moment, so despised the other, and so
keenly desired to c.\prcss tliis feeling to her (possibly she had
come simply to do so, as Rogozliin said next day) that, un-
accountable as the other was with her disordered intellect and
sick soul, it seemed that no idea slic had adopted beforehand
could have been maintained against the mah'gnant, purely
feminine contempt of her rival. Myshkin felt sure that
Nastasya Filippovna would not mention the letters of her own
accord. He could guess from her flashing eyes what those letters
must be costing her now; and he would have given half his life
tliat Aglaia should not speak of them.

But Aglaia seemed suddenly to pull herself together and
instantly mastered herself.

"You misunderstood me," she said. "I have not come here
to fight you, though I don’t like you. I ... I came ... to
speak to you as one human being to another. When I sent for
you, I had already made up my mind what to speak to you
about, and 1 won’t depart from that decision now, though you
should not understand me at all. That will be the worse for
you and not for me. I wanted to answer what you have written
to me, and to answer you in person, because 1 thought it more
convenient. Hear my answer to all your letters. I felt sorry
for Prince Lyov Nikolayevitch from that day when I first made
his acquaintance, and heard afterwards w’hat happened at
your party. 1 felt sorry for him because he is such a simple-
hearted man and in his simplicitj' believed that he might be
happy , . . with a woman ... of such a character. What

556

I was afraid of for him came to pass. You were incapable of
loving him, you tortured him and abandoned him. You could
not love him, because you were too proud . . . ijo, not proud,
•that’s a mistake, but too vain . . , tliat's not it, either, it's
your self-love which amounts almost to madness, of which your
letters to me arc a proof. You couldn’t love a simple-hearted
man like him, and very' likely' you secretly despised him and
laughed at him. You can love nothing but your shame and the
continual thought that you’ve been brought to shame and
humiliated. If your shame were less or you were free from it
altogether, you'd be more unhappy ...” (Aglaia enjoyed pro-
nouncing these too rapidly uttered but long-prepared and
pondered words — words she had brooded over before she had
dreamed of the present inteiview; with malignant eyes she
watched tlicir effect on Nastasya Filippovna's face, distorted
with agitation). "You remember," she went on, "he \vrotc me
a letter then. He says that you know about tliat letter and have
read it, in fact. From that letter I understood it all and under-
stood it correctly. He confirmed that himself lately, that is,
every'thing I’m telling you, word for word, indeed. After the
letter I waited.’ I guessed that you were sure to come here,
because you can’t exist widiout Petersburg; you arc still too
young and too good-looking for the provinces. Though, indeed,
those arc not my words either,” she added, blushing hotly, and
from that moment the colour did not leave her face till she
finished speaking. “When I saw tire prince again I felt dread-
fully hurt and wounded on lus account. Don’t laugh. If you
laugh you’re not worthy to understand that.”

“You see that I'm not laughing,” Nastasya Filippovna pro-
nounced sternly and mournfully.

"It’s nothing to me, though, laugh as much as you like.
When 1 began to question liim, he told me tliat he had ceased
to love you long ago, that even the memory of you was a torture
to him, but that he was sor^ for you . . . and that when he
thought of you, it always pierced His heart. I have to tell you,
too, that I have never in my life met a man like him for noble
simplicity, and boundless trustfulness. I understood from the
way he talked that anyone who chose could deceive him, and
that he would forgive anyone afterwards who had deceived liim,
and that was why I grew to love him ...”

Aglaia paused for a moment as though amazed, as though
hardly able to believe her own ears that she could have uttered
such words. But at the same time an infinite pride shone in

557

from her. ^ ^ «>at had broken

I «nder=(and what

Fi]ippovnE'’answ;rcd^^lly"‘^’ yourscF.” Nastasya

^elaia’s face.

rcir/:n=rabSj/s^^

ning awa;/from him in and run-

‘®I havl ncTer """ ^'^^mding way."

hardly audibl}’. away from him,” she added,

abou?yo"^nelS 'who^ske^' ^Slaia. "How

persuading me to marr\' Wm/^’w ° Jnatctiraaking and
Why do you force ' ^ ^ declaradon?

wanted to rouse in me an ^ |h°^Sht at first that you

us, and so mTe ^JeSim interfering ^^th

guessed what it meant You ^ aftenvards tliat I

doing something wonderful nnH nuap^e^j that you were
Why, are you clpable of bving hK pretences,

dearly? \^Tiv didn’t vnu eirr, ? °ve your vanity so

'vriting me absurd letters? Wh/don’T'’^^ instead of

generous man w'ho love^vou V™

the offer of his hand? ^Tt'c Ff^^h that he honours you TOth
Rogozhin, wh^gS^ice win 5ofn

have had too much honnnr ^ '^^"’Pi^’n of ? You'll

said that you'd read too ^ ''^'^''&ony Pavlovifch

education for your . . . position°-*^

and live in idleness. Add^ fi, ^ hlue stocking

full e.xplanation of you.” ^ your vanity and one gets the
Tm hi idleness?"

une.xpecteTJoint ^uL^Sfid i^d ^'^^h an

Pp^-na set off for PavlovS ^ jhen Nastasya Filip-

^fferent, though no doubt hpr dreams of something

than good. Aglaia w'as absolni were rather of ill

g w^ absolutely earned away by the impulse
55ti

ol tl» moment, os "5'',=!’”;

looked ot Im Odd tit Sot U.e Sml moment. Wheto
eyes, and was completely at a l poetry, as Yes ge y

she were a woman who had rca j,Iyshkin was conv me ,

Povloviteh had said. S SSelimes behaved vnjlt

in any case tills svoinan was really lar more mo ; .

such cynicism and in}pudenc(^«as and

and trusttul than might I'avc bee aSd

was full of romantic much that svas strong an

capricious fantasy, but yet ^ ^ ^^ood that. th^^and

de^ in her . . • Aglaia nobced Uns ana

expression of suffering m

trembled witli hatred. that?” she ^^na’s

"How dare you address ^ j^astasya Fihppo

dcscribablc haughbness. m repy Kilinnovna

’^^“Smost hove heard

“ Si?yS\«S=d i“

S3'’'SaSS's«ddoo|. ^SS

m;;^tld-‘5S«ovL%embhng and
"’^"1 know that you <3* W ”

ttuti N.«S„SSS»d me abog » »««

Sj?,?S“ef.WsW«".f . *3 J'ave’Sodemtood bet.e,
oJ, d_ay with, he, betrothed.

,pcaK wii-“

"I don't feel contempt ^

of work.” , j tn be respectable, you d h

"If you d wanted to b P , _ . . each other,

svasherwoman. , „ n pale laces ‘X'- .-Kg one

They bobh sot -P •"■‘.EflS- oried My*!"”’

‘ ‘ Aglaia, leave off 1 t x s J
distraught.

‘i5'?

wi ok 'arihifi'' ’’“'.“R «liPP“™a, trembling

an aS Have vn? ^ ‘°ok her for

IvanSa’ Ci T" * r."”" ^ goveniess. Aglaia

ccZa'nd s“"So' S S't d™ “"“ 5'°“ “

And to tliink thaf Tw . ‘/fspise anyone you're afraid of.
your chi^ obiect now/

whether he ioves von mor "'anted to find out for yourself
jealous . . .*' ^ ^ 3 'ou’re fearfull}'

■?erh.™^pc,w'l‘am'“'.“^°'! ' ' ■" filtered.

I think v?u'£ S,“ ?? "" "“''y »t Itim. only . . . only
have said so But 1 nio and he could not

positioT voS're in you . . . seeing the

thought toat vou wWp Vi ^ j^'5^ better of you. I
indeSli . . W^U fake°Z7f"^ better-looking even, I did

looking at you he is amt/T

f “ 'onvn 'this hoL at onrel' Ttev™'retote°

suddcnjulm tS°a ®“‘

looked intently and fiv.^i ^ '°"|a new feeling in her face. She
'•But if yoTlike TMUnl/v ^ Agla.a and rose from her seat.

I’ve only to tell him anri ^ ^ him, do you hear?

wth me for ever ™d mf/l" ^ once^ and stay

alone. Shall I? ' Ihall to run home

scarcely able to” believp thai cned, like a mad creature,

Aglai ran in W To tteMn " things,

listened. but stopped at the door and

to many RogMhhi°fo^eas^eTOT? ^ ^olug

oiy to Rogozhin ‘Go awav / simV presence I shall

Pdnre, & ££ « -y-

560

m. ana wonM n«™t ntonao"

but now I don't L.^n^r I’m a loose before

woman? Ask Rogozbin me ® walk away

youl Now when she “rom me also f ^ the

your eyes too, will you curse you then, for y

irrr..\Z^rm With her? Well, evust J not wamc

fou Sn. a.vay rior fou ware

i^-iSann with f » ye»T» ie

only one I trusted. Go ^ doing

she went on, ^tb a distorted face die same

words out with an effort, o( ber tirade, a a ^^^d to

evidently not Abe nosition if only for a j bt

Ume wishing to prolong the POSii^^_^^ ^ Mvshkin.

deceive herself. Tire ou ipast it seemed to y pointing

almost have killed him, so j., ^be cried to Ag not

"Here he isl Look a pie to me at „«ei£ I give

to Myshkin. ‘ 'K he docsn t com fnr yoursel ,

take me, and docsn t pv y npnr^e and both

him up, 1 don’t as it were, diaps, did not

Both she and Aglaia sto bkin. But he, ^ certain

gazed like mad creatures ^^lis challenge', m fag- despairing
understand all the A°yicforc him the fren“ed, <i“P
tliat he didn't. He only Aglaia- appealing

face, which, as he 1*^^ , no more and J’® ^ ■Filippovna,
heart for ever’ ’ , He eould • ^ng to ^^^“AhaoPV creature

and reproachful to Aglaja- an • - •

"How can youl You see b

he cried out and ran to instant of J-'^Tid ran out of the

could not endure even • niy God! a ber.

her face in her hands, cn . ^^^bolt the street , a,rms

room, Rogozliin be felt himself of Nastasya

, Myshkin ran too but he fe^\g, contorted ^ bp, moved,

^^"yIu follow her? his arms. ^'^d stoS over her in

She dropped senseless . jpw chair, an ^^de table,

her into the room, laid her m a lo^^ ^^ter on a u

blank suspense. There w o

f ^ sprinkled it in her face,
suddenly looked round her ^ fcmembered nothing, but

in My^in’s anns. ’ ^ arted, cned out and threw heiself

Ha-ha-hir-'”^!, iiEVin‘hysl«fi’*“'Hrh

she were a little chiirl m c-- u j hands, as though

and was ready to cry at her response to her laughter

intently to her broSn nothing, but hstened

took it in, but SedVeXi scarcely

she was beginning to ofipvf^ao ^ ^ fancied

or complain, he beaan at « S^n, or to weep, to reproach him
tenderly passing his hanrlc stroking her head again, and
forting her like a child. cheeks, soothing and com-

CHAPTER IX

the event= narrated in the
were so completely chansecf^at”^^' persons concerned

to continue o^ur story Som^i n' difficult for us

must, as far as possible confirm c^pianations. And yet we
of facts and for a very simnlc r to the bare statement

in many instances to^xS find it difficult

statement on our part must ^ preliminary

ffie reader, who may ask how wp strange and obscure to
have no dear idea, no persoml desmbe that of which we
selves in a still putting our-

an instance — and perhaps the kin^^' ^ better try to give

stMd — of our difficulty And w ^ disposed reader will under-
Ws instance ^vill Smake a readily as

the direct continuation of it. ™ narrative, but will be

coum^^SfoSghfthehfew^of" “d in the

the last incident in that histonr hero, and particularly

very diverting, almost incredih^ transformed into a strange,

picuously actual scandal which ’ same time con-

scandal which gradually spread through all

the streets adjoining almost all over the town a^n^

and die Epanchins it.- Almost all the .

pvpn the districts adjoining i - „:citors and tV

•I almost all over

andUieEpanclnns ^ 7 Almost all eople who

even tlic distncts ^j^'rj^ummer visitors and die p P^^^^

place, the inhabitants, ' talking of the sa /scandal
came to hear the 3^ prince, after ca g ^

a thousand "^anadon^ family an<i 3 been

in a well-known and already petr jbb

gi,l oi Ital toily. Cown cocoIK; ted

captivated by a well everything, ie a few

mra friends and, «gardEss ot tlie public, wa^^

regardless of genera i g^^ H here in Pavlovsk

days’ dme intending, . blicly married i'^r ^^bly

in die face, to be openly^^^^ dis-

lo a woman with a disg * , -jP so many well fantashc

adorned with scandalo ^^^-ed into it, an^i^ it, while

tinguished persons were in . -{jeance ^-contestable and

and enigmadcal shades P^ ^'Sd widi such ^nco^f ,vere, of

on the other hand, it was p curiosity and g P^^ tbe

" concrete facts that the d _ gubde, a credit of

course, very citation must be put i^lc people

same time probable 'nte«°“ that f ass o Ppiain

a few serious gossips be society, m indeed tbeit

who are always, ja evepy j^j,d who According to

every event to their n d j^^Qiation in a prince, and

vocation and often thei £ good ,^’-00 crazy over

their version, the y/^pd ^^crat. who had gon^; u

almost wealthy, afooi, ^-vealed by jove with the

the contemporary "ihih^ «^c«eded in being

scarcely able to speak and had theErench-

daughter of funeral Ep jgjoily. B •jj£^ -who hOjd

accepted as her beteoth X ^ appeared 1 Pj g^d puiyosely
mJ in a story that had ^ fVe rit^'

allowed himselt to be performed a £^j inform

begged to be consecrated, so on- u God, he

bowings and kissings an ocopl^ and be kept

his bishop publicly y^ deceive the p P priesthood he

considered it dishonoura renounce printed m

by them for nothing, nud „rjd sent his lett prince ted

had assumed the day p’this French athe ’ ^sely waited
all the Liberal naoers-hke tnis^ bad pm^o J ^is be-

J

and ^^^ridsenTto letter

iiau dbsuiuc^ die day French ^/^/riurpoSiy waited

all the Liberal paper^l/^^ he had pnj^ J ^is be-
played a false part. It civen by th P distinguished

tor the formal evening P^^fted to very many a
trolhed at which he was presem

evm2‘ Glinkin;: .iJoud before

?;r

■tec.,; v^>4 .Ik c„„:r " ^iLni'r '„;“

Ilmhc*ZoU.rf™cm!r'o^^^^ ”" ““'""1 "■"“ '''''■

(.liUi onlv in .||J. “,J '‘I '''''>"=l<ii‘ision, bol had

3raH^i€" ' -‘1—

that a^CTcat niimlv>r nf daily cvcrik. It's tnic

Faifl tii^t the twor rWJ remained unexplained. It was*''

soreVpioplc^r--4lc^r'* bctrotheci-accordmp to

her over, ihc had nm rrV’'^* die day after he threv/
mistress blhcn nnin'V ^''”i "b^rc he was sitting with his
pirrSdy YurS^S; M -'f ‘^at si, e had been

nihilism/that is^r The YakeTY s simply for the sake of
However that may have Crn T ^’l^ming and insulUng her.
greafereveij'day. «rJdaIk-Tst ,T die stor>' grew

doubt diat tJio scand^^Yr- “^.d’crc remained not the slightest
And nJw if wT.Tnn f "’^'dd take place,

the nihilisdc sirmifi^n ^ cxplanab'on — not of

howTir dic prSS m.r°- «b no!_but simply

what those desfres artilnU satisfied Myslikin’s real desires,
spiritual condition of nur 'iT d^tit moment, how tlie

Ynd so on. and Ton Z be defined at that instant,

to answer. We can' onlv d very difficult

really was arranecH that the marriage

Lebedi’cv, Keller and a fT ’bm himself Jiad authorised

Myslik-inby the ktlT al tlS Tnf ^"T^yeVs. presented to
saiy arranRemenfs mlimnn 3“*’cturo, to undertake all ncccs-
f ot to were bidden

the wedding and in iiasto for ^dippovna w'as insisUng on
request, liad been chosen fT « ^^"dcr. at his own ardent
Burdovsky, who acceTed if prmce's best man, wliile
y. accepted the appointment with enthusiasm,

564

I, ad ten cW t» tin. sa™ , n ^

povna, and that the wedtog ,cU-aotte»w?“Vro? »

Sine ot ]«ly- TrSfare S»»” “fn^ te t diied

stances, some other facts because they „ for

completely out of our have a strong suspicm^

contradiction of the precedi g. ^^yev and the

instance, that, after authorising ^ tiie vej_

make all the arrangements. ceremonies, and^^^^.^^

same day Uiat he had a rn ^ his hast about

ding and "best men at hand, a avoid thinking

over arrangements to make haste

it himself, and even, perhaps, to ma what id he w

iver arrangements to otirers to lorgei —

it himself, and even, perhaps, Jo ma^^^ case vihat id he w

Of what was he dunking hi struggling^ „tasva Fip-

to remember, and for , | coercion, on ^^a ^^^gtasya

doubt, moreover, that no sort of co^^ *^!nd iat it

povna’s part, for ire a^speedy Ae wedding.

I'ilippovna certamly did oe drought of casually

was ie. and not Myshkin, ivho hao^^ somewtet cas

,vas she, and not own free will, soiaew a ^

But Myshkin had agreed JJJ "sked for qahe

indeed, and as before us i^.ahnn ^ positively

dung. Such strange facts ar dunking, tney P ^

hom making things dearer to our^ t,ke them.
obscure every cxplanatmn, g_ Myshkin •

will bring forward another i that ^°^.|oovna; that

Thus we know for a fac Mastasya Fi PP j . that he

spent whole days and cveni ^ ^ j^car the j^ggan to

sL took him I^th her for gvery day'- seeing her

drove out in her carnage passed wiiout whatever

be uneasy about her if an ° sincerely)^ .jg smile

(so that by every sign 1?^ |ov “gd with a ^dd gut we

she talked to him about. he ^jy anything i J^gjal, in fact
for hours together, saying s y he had g^^ting the
know too that in the con^e „ g^iins’ her almost

many, times called at the Ep .^^^jgh it bad dn j-gmained
fact from Nastasya HliPPf "^’iSg ns the Epnng®^ refused
to despair. We know that, ns long consiste^

at PavVsk, they did thnt be wouM

to allow, him to see Aglaia ^^y go to ^ before,

rvithout saying a word ^ y-en their refnsnl jjour after
though he had completely Jorg^'^.yyehnow too pgr.

and, of course, be refused ag Nastasya r PP yy at the

Aglaia Ivanovna had run a\ y jjyshkin wa
haps even less than an hour after, y

565

merit and alarm, becansrAnlo;! a!!!'® amazc-

And It was only froL E th^Fn.nti yj^ returned home,
she had been with him to learned that

that Lizaveta SofWvnn r Fibppovna's. It was said

Irealed Myshkin on ^lat nrr-!^^ daughters and even Prince S.
way; and^iat they Imd

renounced all friendshin anrl -i strongest terms

emphatically that Varfara a ^^“^mtance with him, the more

hcr^pp^crid ann^niw^''°T^ "‘^ddenly made

Aglaia had been in her houce for iJie^ST Prokofyevna that

of mind, and seemed timviliin,, f f’°ur in a fearful state

of news affected Lizaveta p^i liomc. This last piece

and it turned out to be^quit^S'^n anything,

Nastasya FilinDoma’c a!!n- On coming away from

died tlian have Meed her ™nld certainly sooner have

androvna's VanrS t° Nina Alex-

promptly to inform Li7’avet!r^''i^/°’^ essential

the mo^er TaugSrs ruSeS°o^^^^^^ everything. And

androvna's, foUowed by fte hiadtf tL^f

vitch, who had iust retnm/./ h the family, Ivan Fjndoro-

after them, in spite of their trudged along

words. But Va^a?a *eir harsh

he was not allowed to see Aglaia''”Th^°°^a‘^^r-

Aglaia saw her mother

not uttering a word of blam^ ®

and at onci reMmed LiS^'h ^heir arms

was particularly unlucky on thi. * ^ GavnI Ardalionovitch
the opporlpuit/ wm“ too; that scizinB
Lizaveta Prokofvevna anri hn . dahonovna was running to
had thought fit to begin talkine of^h' A\glaia, he

him, Aglaia had, infpite of ifer^ti^^ passion; that, listening to
burst out laughing and had^ail at ^d dejection, suddenly
to him ; Would he, to prove hie i ^ ^ strange question

candle? Gavril Ardalionovitch wL^TnVh^^’?

by the question; he was so rnmr!r^’T . petrified

betrayed such extreme amar^ ^ aback, and his face
him as though she wre M laughed at

f” p"Snt - 2'- wilcS fh*e“Slrd''i.y

IPPokt. who, bcin, ,00 11, .o'gcn,p,"LS SZ’iS ot^pS:

pose to tell it to him. and

don’t know, but when Myshkin hcc surprised,

the finger, he laughed so ^"uch that Ippour w ^ _

then he suddenly beg^ to trcrnble uneasi-

Altogether he was dunng vaeuc but^ tormenting,

ness and extraordinary V . Up^s out of Ins mind,

Ippolit bluntly declared tliat he thought he out

but it was impossible to affirm this with . attempt to

In presenting all these facts and ^jf^h P^yes

explain them, we have no desire to jush ^ j share the
of the reader. Wliat is more we^ are qui e P P‘ ^ Lebedyev
indignation he e.xcited even in his friends. indignant;

ivas indignant with him for a time; even ^^a was inm^a ,
even Keller was indignant, till he was chose • against

nothing of Lebedyev himself, who LLine.

MyshMn. also from an indignation whmh w^ quite genum ^

But of that we will speak later. Altogether words of

sympathy "'Un wihip and nsvchologically deep woras oi

dVep

V.V6eay P^Kh's, yokcn

^vgeay Paylovitch-s, spoken S or 7ovS

the latter in friendly conversation with » J . viip must
days after the incident at Nastasy^a ^^hpp hutevervone
observe, by tlie way, that not j tiinnpht nroner

directly or indirectly connected wth them had g . P
to bre^ off aU relations vdth Myshkin. Prmce S-. mstang,
filmed aside when he met Myshkin and (hd no P ^n-Q^ijs.
greeting. But Yevgeny Pavlovitch was uotafraid visiting

ing himself by visiting the prince, though he ha ^ ^ them
the Epandiins every day again, and was by them

'vith an unmistakable increase of cordiality. He p , v

I'lyshkin the very day after the Epanchins ha ... 1

He knew already of k the rumours that were
had, perhaps indeed, assisted to circulate them lu ; ^ ^

was delighted to see him and at once began ^peaking of te
Epanchins. Such a simple and direct “™P^3

loosened Yevgeny Pavlovitch’s tongue too, so that he went
straight to the point without beating about the bus .

Myshkin did not know that the Epanchins had left. He was
struck by the news, he turned pale; but a imnute later he shook
bis head, confused and meditative, and acknowledged that so
it Was bound to be** ; then he asked quickly: Where had they
gone?*'

Meanwhile Yevgeny Pavlovitch watclied him carefully', and he
marvelled not a little at all this— the rapidity of his questions,

c.fin

their simplicity, his perturbation, restlessness and excitement,
and at the same time a sort of strange openness. He told Jtlyslikin
about everything, however, courteously and in detail. There
was a great deal the latter had not heard, and this was the first
person to visit him from the Epanchins' circle. He confirmed
the rumour that Aglaia really had been ill. She had lain for
three days and nights in a fever wathout sleeping. Now she
was better and out of all danger, but in a nervous and hysterical
state. "It was a good thing," he said, "that now there was
perfect harmony in the house. They tried to make no allusion
to the past, not only before Aglaia, but also among themselves.
The parents had already made up their minds to a trip abroad
in the autumn immediately after Adelaida’s wedding. Aglaia
had received in silence the preliminary hints at tliis plan. He,
Yevgeny Pavlovitch, might very possibly be going abroad too.
Even Prince S. might possibly go with Adelaida for a couple
of montlis if business permitted. The general himself would
remain. They had all moved now to Kolmino, their estate
fifteen miles out of Petersburg, where they had a spacious manor-
house. Princess Byelokonsky had not yet returned to Moscow,
and he believed she was staying on at Pavlovsk on purpose.
Lizaveta Prokofyevna had insisted emphatically that they could
not stay on in Pavlovsk, after what had happened. He, Yevgeny
Pavlovitch, had reported to her every day the rumours that were
circulating in the town. It did not seem possible for them to
move to the villa at Yelagin.”

"And indeed,” added Yevgeny Pavlovitch, "you’ll admit
yourself they could hardly have faced it out. . . . Especially
knorving what’s going on here in your house every hour,
prince, and your daily calls there in spite of their refusing to
see you. . . ."

"Yes, yes, yes, you’re right. I wanted to see Aglaia Ivan-
ovTia,” said Myshkin, shaking his head again.

"Ah, dear prince,” cried Yevgeny Pavlovitch, with warm-
hearted regret. "How then could you allow ... all that’s
happened? Of course, of course, it was aU so unexpected. I
understand that you must have been at your wits’ end and you
could not have restrained the mad girl; that was not in your
power.^ But you ought to have understood how intense and how
inuch in earnest the girl was ... in her feeling for you. She
did not care to share you with another woman and you . • •
you could desert and shatter a treasure like that ! ’ ’

"Yes, yes, you're right. I am to blame,” Myshkin began

568

"Yes, tnai s ju.. Yevgeny ^ been nu..-

nothing senous m it. prince, V,’nut it; 1

carried away. Forgi . ’ fought a 1°*- ^ gix months ago,

ing about it, pnnce. all that happened your

that happened before, in rtl It ^ ^ iuntasy,

dl-and there "“^vas invo^. “ inespen

-“I

“'m thi? po^nt, atiom "SSrly and reasona^^^ a

gave full vent to b'S ^"Shological Filippo^"^'

we repeat, with ^e relations wit momen

picture of Myshkin s ^ language, » he declared.

He had at all times a ?ft “S’st end in a he

rose to positive \\diat begins m a _ ind'gaa

"it began wife f^J'- j^n’t agree, and, i too cleve

that’s a law of nature. I^^__^^oU__an you’re

when somebody ealls F ^’ro so strange I’ve made

;a^ inteUectua; taken m-rince. that ro^ uw

ordinary 'honesty j ^ust admit > o Nastasya ^ce

convictionsl. ur nJahons fc^ng

very beginmn^’^^^go^ fascination so to

sr^s^-hh.. ‘»F Vsi'”S="i “>%»'' P'S! H

■woman q«^h^* strango. .^^toalrin brought l»a

T “ rfe- '"rlute

IB" -

a great ' ' 569

meetings, a day o^ unemected arnn-Wn?™’ ^
surprising reality of meeting fhp.^fr. ^ of the most

Aglaia amone fem- Epanchm beauties, and

head and tlirn r? , y fatigue and tlie turmoil in your

Na3«,y, Fi,ipp„v»a,'a„d

of a. sach a ient, ’i, doyo^h W”

flush orims?n/"Yra ^tot'^tooVl!T''ll'''1 '''S'”"‘”S

you know I’d searroi,,^!. I .f. was. And do

and all the nieht befn^.* f "'S^t before,

"Yes, of Sume tW’ exhausted.”

Pavlovitch rnfon wa^lv'^'^ "t'” Yevgeny

cated with enthusiasm cn ® y®“' mloxi-

of publicly proclaiming the geS^’sfdS^Saf oPP°.rtonity

birth and a man of pure life n,if ^ P™’^

honoured who had been put' m ^ t woman as dis-

fault, but through the faulfofa^sir^' not through her own

Good heavens of * disgusting anstocratic profligate,

the poiSTeaV pr^ce^h? can understand it. But that’s not
whether there was aenuinpnp^°*”^ whether there was reality,
was natural feelin/or onlv '^^cther there

you think; in the temple th^ wo enthusiasm. MTiat do

woman, but she wasn^t tom forgiven—just such a

deserving of aU respect and

sense teU you vS thrp Didn’t common

But, even mLw ?hS of the case?

that, for ifS 4S

such intolerable diaboliral *^.^‘^°uld all her adventures justify
egoism? Forgive me r)rin^^*^T msolent, such rapacious
but . . ." P™ce, I let myself be carried away,

muttered^agdn* are right ” Myshkin

you’re noht^To doubt, but irritated, and

.■>70

-Deserving .i

hlctrt a£' 1 W?" ^Tag^Sf-

tion tliat passes belief 1 How Uie sake of

her like this before her 1' ^ ^ ^,er, after Jer

^voman, m the very presence of that ^ ^ „ake n^^

self made her an so before her Uiat,

an offer, didntyou. ^ honourable man ^

sisters 1 - Do you call yourself ^ didn’t you dece

s,Tm svs “

Hyshwi SiS pivlovitch

"B«tfethat mouph?" '•“frevgW
"U it saffickat to cry out „as V”” „mcut:

blame, but yet you pers'sj face at d at ^

your'Chnsban heart? )'hyv^ other, tliat o a.nd

iell, ws she suffering less than have seen rt

who has come betweeri youf prince,

allowed it? How could you. ^uttered the unhappy P
-But ... I didn’t allow it, mut

“You didn’t allow it? j don’t understand t

"1 really didn’t allow auytlimg- ^ f running after^A|.^^,
hour how it all came f° P/^‘ c„cva Filippo^ua fed oovna.”
Ivanovna at tlie time, but H - pre see Aglaia *
ing. And since then they haven t^n Aglaia even

“Nevermind! You ought Jo hav _ have died,

the other woman was faiubug! ghe 'vould have

"Yes . . . yes, 1 ought to have.^^- y°h /o^ t ^ ,

you know. She would ^ce 1 should hav yevgeny

her, and . . . it inade no diffejence^^t ^ ^ _ yevg^y

Ivanovna everytlung ufferwa > gverythi S- ^ have

Pavlovitch, 1 see that yh'^/f^aia Ivanovna? I ^‘%f the
why won't they let me see tliey hoth a j

to her. You see, ^ j .j^ppened._. • •

“Where are you going?”

“Let's go to Aglaia Ivanovna; let’s go at once! . .
to ^ ° “ Pavlovsk now. I told you so. And why go

She will understand, she wiU understand!” Mvshkin
Sd imploringly. “She would Siider-

'°How something quite different!”

eoinP to sometiung quite different? Only you’re

g g to marry her, anyhow. So you persist in it Are
you going to be married or not?” ^ it. . . . Are

yes ... I am; j^es. I am!”
iheii how IS it ‘not that’?”

goingto difference that I’m

going to marry her. That’s nothing, nothing.”

Why *iffs not^a makes no difference and it’s nothing?
vou love to mat' V. matter, is it. You’re marrying a woman
Smvs ff Hoi ^Siaia Ivanovna sefs that and

“Hannv? nh say it makes no difference?”

to And^vliat ic th° • ^ marrying her; she wants me

. what IS there in my marrying her? I oh well all

now diat certainly have died. I'see

now all th at T madness, I understand

stood there^ farina nn before, and, you see, when they

povna’s face ^ bear Nastasya Filip-

povna s race. . . . You don’t know, Yevgenv Pavlowtrh”—

face Tt wa ^ Nastasya Filippovna’s

elenWai Na.TllaTr'^^^* now about that

left ouf becanan -irn s; but there is one thing you

morSfoa I ^°°ked at her face! That

g, in her portrait, I couldn t bear the sieht of it Vera

rra^dUt; -f

;; You’re aMd Jfit?” e.xtraordinary terror.

whispered, turning pale.

extreme interest ° * Yevgeny Pavlovitch, with

—

becoSqthe sJJe these last days. I’ve

cried with ^horror Piince?” Yevgeny Pavlovitch

fear? There’s no manying her from a sort of

perhaps?” * ariding it! Without even loving her.

572

"And at the same time yu

Ivanovna?” ,,,

XnrThen you ™nt >» l«ve bo1> ■>*

prince,

"Witiiout Aglaia 1 m ■ • • ^ ^ 1 should j-new

I shall soon & in oAy I?* >' *f“ V to

night in my sleep. Oh, i^ ^ ^ing I mean- ^ or

cvWiring ■ ■ ■,fS “f«eS?Sng. to*’n"^‘rtJS person,
case one needs to k u^q-J everything i . But

my is it we ^ver can k^ ^ °^"Xled ^^uU shocked

when one ought to. I’m muddlea.

I don't know rvhat I ™ f V, face look nfjS'it's all my
niG very niucti • • • ▼ Kiiimel Most 1 y 'rviorft^s

_1_ C

something in dl

y J«mS.Sa.X%“1;.ito.^ “ost iWy

spirit. Do you ^g^^loved either of . g right in a

thing is tlrat you vc nevCT ^ _ perhaps. You re r 6 y

"I don’t know, f *^itch. You are very olever. Y

great deal Yevge^ Pavl^7,b^^^^^ .

She'S in Kohnino.'

"!3's’^f.o^%^'»?eSJtoaidempl»to.iy.

“That’S impossible! g y

getting up. to her. You take ® J ' i can’t I ’’

“Listen. I “ wn such a commission. ^ui-

“No, prinoe, P Pavlovitch went away '

They hk iudgment too the "P*°L° the meaning

pressions, t in his right mind. And what . j yet perhaps

Myshkin was much, and yet loved. ji^laia never

SSlf-uW And how can

v/ould know

Ssfeg'? “poor idhi? Wh

fa poor miot ! What will become of him now? ’’

CHAPTER X

B^n hifilSn" wedding, either awake or

Perhaps he did nn’tX^ P^^^jcted to Yevgeny PavJovitch.
with p^eople wa^^ bad dreamsf but by day,

seemed iost in bmnrtmCT contented. At times he

The wedding warSe '"ben he was alone,

week after YevSnv fixed for about a

best friends if hf h^ri on visit. With such haste his

crazy fellow’* Thpr^ hardly have “saved the poor

his wife Lizavln ^bat General Epanclun and

yevgcJJS “.ch?S>’‘B™ '4™“'

their hearts thpi, mo. i, *he immense kindness of

from ruh?Aev have ^vlshed to save Uie poor lunatic

their position^nor nerh^n= ^+i this feeble effort; neither

(naturally enouahl w'th mchnation was compatibli

mentioned alre^v thaf Pronounced action. We have

rounding Myshkin had ^bose immediately sur-

however! cSned heiff b.ebeVv.

staying more in the Indop ° ^‘^dding a few tears in solitude,
than before Kolva at ^°'’bing in upon Myshkin less

funeral. The old iLomi h 7 ^. occupied with his father’s
after the first. Myshkin shnf. ^ second stroke eight days

grief of the familv^ and for the wannest sympathy with the
daily with Nina ^exandr^*^ first few days spent several hours
the service in the church funeral and to

arrival and departure wcm n People noticed that Myshkin's
crowd in the diurch Te ^‘^‘^ompanied by whispers among the
in the gardens. Wherever hTwlnf thing in the streets and
by a hum of talk hi<; nnm ^ °r drove out, he was greeted

out; and Nastasya khnnovnif'c^^ mentioned, he was pointed
looked out for her a?^hp°r was audible. People

Another person consScnoni?"l'^b but she was not present,
whom Lebedyev succeeded ^ absent was the captain’s widow,

burial service^had a str?nl “ from coming. The

whispered to Lebedvev in^ pamful effect on Myshkin. He
first time he ha1S:^^^r.V°^^^ question^hat it was

TO l^ehprixrATr ^ * '-XIUUL Uii iViysilKJii.

first time he had been question that it was

he had a faint memory of Orffiodox funeral, though

m his childhood. ^ similar service at a village church

574

■•Vcl il scm. a.

Lf*pSt Mys^H'".-

^•‘Ob, noUiing. l^iancica . • •

•‘Not Rogozliin?

•'yS' in the church.'* muttered in confusion.

•‘BrSyf\^SlShcrc'for? J'Xy^fon’t know luin

;tSS SsrSiHc'tiice "‘that Sne.” muttered

•Tve never seen him once since

Mi'shkin. \,^A not once loW nim -

A. Nastasya Myst'kin concluded nmv_

had met Rogo 7 .hin ^'"“ ^£,3500 keeping out °^,%',S'’vacta=ya

that Roeozhin was for some reaso XonrUt, while .■;f_

ill tot day ;;a '';i;, ;l San^B tha 'J»y“.? 'XA

Filippovna was cxceptiona y jlyshkin before his

Kolya, who had made it np ^th Mvs^ ^ Burdovsky to

dcatlif suggested tti^it he « near at hand),

be his best men (as the behave properly and p P

He guaranteed that to spcalc of Bnrdov y> ^

be of use, while tlierc ' ‘ oerson. Nina Alexandrovn

he was a quiet tlwt if tlio marriage %ycre a set^^^^^^

Lebedyev observed y , at Pavlovsk, m di

thing, there was to publicly. They urged that it ^muW

ot the summer \^,edding at Petersburg and rehen-

be better to ha% ^ clearly the drift of their app

house, briefly and simply that it was Nastasya

povna’s partgtaovig-^^ Myshkin, having been mformed

Next day N'm ^ man”. Before going m he ^00^
tliat he was . Myshkin, he m

in the doori' > forefinger apart from tlie rest, a

right hand, P,v;

as though ta^iPA. ,, both

<<I won ^ Myshkin, warmly pressed and sho j

IS aSouncS that certaMy, when he aj

bis hand > ,.p hostile and had proclaimed ^^jj-jpated

of the w ^ other reason than that he had an
billiards, ana

friend, to sec by his side at^he ^ impatience of a

de Rohan, or at least dn rlS . someone like the Princess

that Jlyshkin looked at Wmself

all of them “ tinies as nobly as

wealth, nor evK?S.v 1/°^ I"'" P°^P ot

The sympathies of evnlf^d for the truth 1

the princfwL too

person, speaking geneSlJ^T education not to be an exalted

town, in the hous^^n^mf mbble judge differently; in the
stand, m ^he villas, at th^ band-

and shouting of noting but^ihL talking

that they were even Skin^ Vf ^

the windows— and that

you should need, prince’ the wedding night! If

to exchange half a dn^^’n f i°i honest man, I am ready

the monies Sr voS n.fnK gentleman before you ri^
tion of a grfafSof th^^?, ^bcipa-

to have the fire-hose rend on coming out of the church,

opposed this. He said fho ^ court-yard. But Lebedyev
had the hose. ^ would pull the house to pieces if they

They want to^^vou^undp^^ apinst jmu, prince, he is reall)'.

7eeTedVo\Zf°f It’s ^Tolf^t^ith!”

sort himself but of co-irsp having heard something of the
too, he meJdv L4SdT„i&lr?? -o .Iteetion to it® Now,
certainly had'been ven/^ v,, agam at once. Lebed}'ev

schemes spranruDbv .?.n“^ P^st. This man’s

A P”“g“P oy inspiration, and in fhp r

from4onS^^^

failed in his mdertakSgl ^When generally

he came to Myshkin tn pi^ ”hra, almost on the wedding-dav.
able habit to^xnrl penitence (it was his invari-

had been intriguing against whom he

announced to iSn^thaf oot succeeded), he

know how it ^^he hlJ ^ Tallejnrand and didn't

disclosed his whole aamp ^ Lebedyev. GThen he

According to his stor^^p ^ S^^^tly interested Myshkin,
bon of some pemSf Sn^Pn ^°°hing for the protec-

equence on whose support he might

576

1 Ivan Fyodo'

reckon in case

S to rvl^Kh »”‘‘„^"iS Sart,

or listen to ium. J Lebedyev, did and a

waved him away. .uj-ewd lawyefi ii' ^ given bis opm
took the advice of patron. He ^ v?itnesses as

great friend of tas, ^j^ey bad co P an s

that it was only P°^' p®. and hnmistakame ^ then

to his mental jjce to bac o'^'^^®'°”’-hbon

more persons imaged, arid had, on o^ ^ ^ nbbon

Lebedyev was no^J old man, simply- so

brought a doctor-^so to *up onnee’s acqnamtanc ,

— ^who was staying lo make P , ^ i^m kno^

say, to see how a friendly way, to let nn

an\ not ofhcially but in a ^ He remembered that

he thought of him. , .v^o doctor s I'l? • vgfore about his

w’t- Sy

which was paterfamihi^’ ^ intense lad'.^^^Lgbedycv,

"aTned in he exat^^^je doctor^ ^l^o ^ould

friends. On leaving Myg^^l nnder conW^ ^^onp-

Sr°&?»»'>oay a Ba. rn.y

S’atSrta w3hv *'““'3'. 'which alone migli'

-possessed of fSn” aU hL ”^*; ''?• "

Rogozhin, pearls and d 7 nmr.n,ii from Totsky and

fore the dear prince's chmVp ^awls and furniture and there-

the shrewdness of his wnrldi rather a testimony to

fore tended to the very prudence, and there-

prince’s favour, in fact^ conclusion completely in the

■■A™ ™t^fS?dded%rl7■ “ ”• S” »=y”"<i “•

me but devotion and readln^ see nothing from

I've come to tell yoJ so ” ^ and

he srat for him^on?y tSf Sten

house not far off THp liffi ‘ family was hving in a little
were glad to bfat SloS brother Ind sister,

from fhe mvaM Lto fhey could escape

was left at his mercv and P°°^ captam's widow

was obliged to intervene nn,^ ‘^o^pletely his victim. Myshkin
day, and the invalid sHlI eiif peace between them every '
same time he Sed ?o ''nurse", though at the

the part of peacemaker! He wSS hiS, ? d*’®®

because the latter had '^“'^§aon against Kotya,

at first beside iSd^nSt Ind

mother. At last he rnad® m ^f^^’^'^ards with his mdowed
Nastasya EliSS™ fhe 1“'’'’“^'^® ’"’"’'“S'

mg the prince and maHno- . ^bes, and ended by offend-
gave up^visiLg him Myshkin

trotted round in'the moiJw anTJ^^"".
to come to them or "thaf begged Mj/shkin, with tears,

She added She inland of her”. :

Myshkin went. anted to tell him a great secret.

coS? ^rmore^sStSufft? "P’ ^^er his team, of

was close at hand^He’tiad every sign that the end

earnest requeste^breathS ° f except some
shammed) — "to beware o/ro^ emotion (possibly

never giv^ his ogect |eTSt a man who will

iShS®’ “

at facts of some’sortll'EaTfhe^c^'"'' f*

■out there^were no facts except Ippolit’s

To hW intense

pcisona.1 sentiments j"^P\'lS"^«ccecd in ^omc of

in. Ippolit

thoroughly. At ^ at his ^ married

Ippoht’s questions. °”^„rvwhcrc, aiad he ■'It’s

there were Russian pnesL wth the ^in knows

there". But Ippoht f ^ed at Save robbed

for Aglaia Ivanovna I am * jQve. ^ . p^,anovna;

howyoulove her. Rsa he will mildn’t you?”

him of Nastasya you’d fccl 't,

though she’s not ' hkin kft him „ before the

Hcattainedhisob]Cct.h^n came evening for

These warnings Vo^tasva Filippo'^'^^ ^ jn a state
wedding. Myshkin saw ^ But made him

the last time before tliei she had of before,

to reassure him. On the that is a few day^^^^

more and more unemsy. T {^ort to che singing

when she saw him she f ^de ^ She ev® ^^uting
was dreadfully afraid of h^ pirn e^eO ^ J 2 augh

to him; most frequently she , ^ alwaj'S -ujant wit and

she could tliink of. Mj-shkm «augh Ore bnlUant^^^^

heartily. Sometirnes he did told st Seeing

genuine feeling with which ® as she oft*^^ , ^ gbe was

was carried aivay by her su^^ion „ade on him.

Myshkin’s mirUi. seeing the His

delighted, and began to fe P marked e v’aver;

melancholy and brooding F condibon seemed

conviction of Nastasya Fi PP .^.jpuj-noivW jnejy believed
but for that conviction all h ^le. But he 8® ^ truthful in

to Wm enigmatic and 'rnac been q sincerely,

that her recovery w^ P°f ^at he loved her truly ^gnderness

telling Yevgeny PavlovitA element for

and in his love for her thcfc ^ co^rW. ^-'J for her, and.
for some sick, unhappy ^ . anyone his feoh g jjjjpossible to
itself. He did not explam to found ^ ^^ver dis-

in fact, disliked speakmg of it, together, b y ^

avoid the subject. When ^ ^ they h^d jh ^.ygjyday gay
cussed their “feehngs . ^ *^g|en part ^ to say after-

to do so. Anyone might Alexeyevna us a ^gj and

and lively conversation. Harya ^ time but
wards that she had done n • and mental

rejoice, as she looked at th jpjtippovna’s ^ perplexities-

But his view of Nastasya s FiuPP^ naany P F

condition to some extent sa

170

£e SonteSPre Oal too™

She had ran aSv fram for instance, why

curses an™?eprS2 vef n^^“^^

marriaee. So she wac nA i ^ ^o was herself insisting on the

would be misery for him ° * ™arriage with her

growu. «JsellSlL5e“"co„tS‘bSS;,

opimon. But apain thJc natural in her, in his

to her hatred ’for Aglaia Nast^f

feeling too deeply for that-' f^^^PPOvna was capable of

her fate ^vith EzhL^ thp

indeed enter into it Rnf causes as well as others might
what he had suspend fonir ^* was

had broken doivii. Though afrih^S

perplexity, it could not p£« k- ™ way from

At times he tried ac ^

seemed really to look nn ff^^nk of an 3 dhing. He

mality, he held his own f if niamage as some insigmficant for-

vsiJiPs iLeth/o„r>vi!k ^

unable to answer them utterly

avoided all talk of the kfod incompetent, and so

understood miite^vdrwha^A^ Nastasya Filippovna knew and
speak, but hTiw hd " “"I"' She did not

preparing to go to the tt ' When she found him sometimes
Pavlovsk® she® w2 no.iSLT'^'^f- Epanchins left

suspicious as he was had Unobservant and un-

that Nastasya Filinnmm heg^ to be worried by the thought
public scandal to get her mind to some

commotion SoS foe ‘ The talk and

partly kept up bv Na<;tas villas were no doubt

rivah As^ it W °^<ior to irritate her

Filippovna arranged to h Epanchins, Nastasya

with thrpriSherdaSi" their winded

surprise for Mvshkin Wn h^ide her. This was a horrible
^vas^too late to Sffoin?= ^le usually did, when it

passing foe windows the carriage was actually

days ^teMs ihe SdTof ""thing but he was ill for two
the last few days before fop the experiment. During

brooding. She dwrvnSf^ she had frequent tits of

and became cheerful^gain overcoming her melancholy,

^ happily cheerful as fop Ap not so noisily, not

his attention. It struck him ^ ^ate. Myshkin redoubled

-as curious that she never spoke of
580 ^

Rogozhin. Only once, fn^ daj^ Ve found

ms suddenly brought lui terrible s a •

once, as Nastasya l’*^PP°'^j^:,^omplctc "’^^^Vozhin was
her in a condition approadung comp^^^ iust

screaming, shuddenng. and she W

hidden in the garden, la t night, that he evening

now. that he would kd her rn thc^ But twin’s

throat 1 She could not be {qj- a raoiuen , j^ad

when Myslikin looked in ° P^g(j from tlic town j^ogozhin

widow, who had only ]ust returned S£d qa^'

been on some little ahair Petersburg gaid

had been to her lodging diat ^ ^er to ^er luq ^ ^vas
lioned her about Pav ovsk- ^the very h^e when^
that Rogozliin had called garden by Nastasya

supposed to have been sec imagiua ' yegtion ber

povna. It was explained as j^^^elf to ques

' Filippovna went to the ei^ . relieved. , rj. Nastasya

more minutely, and was^ea y Mysl*'" .^^edding fiaety
On the day before the wedding dress.

Filippovna in a state af ^Spetersburg--:her wedo g ^
arrived from the dressmaker s in r
the bridal veil, and so on

,1,1 1 — wnrll r.XCllC

JSSe W. H“ raS are».
ssr„;\rtoin,;kVs^

the bridal veil, and so on. y ^ ^ess. H P she let
would be so much excited j^^ppier than e
thing, and his praises mad were gethng

slip what was in her mind. ^caps of the P , , verses coin-
nation in the town; *at die madcap ^ with the

up some sort of chanvari ^ ^as mo wanted

posed for the occasion; ^ society, ■^v^gjn to outshu^

approval of the rest of Pa before > them

to hold up her head higher . ^ggs of her a ^^gt^ed at foe
them all mth the taste and n Her eyes « did

shout, let them whistle if ^foer secret foough^ g^iy rate
very thought of it. She ha , d that ’-vd incognito, i

not utter that aloud. She P jjj the c prepared h^'
someone sent by her, would als clock in the

the church, would look and .,’^,^10 at ele ^ struck mid
self for it. She parted footn i ys^^^. before
evening, absorbed in these to Flys tjad •

night a messenger eame jj,g at onc^ jmotn, weepiug’.'
Alexeyevna begging fom t hear nofoi g

Mykin found his bnde f “^^^/time she wouW ^pg„gd

despair, in hysterics. For fjosed door. i

that was said to her through foe ci

her kn'e^ before °”

managed to get a peen Daiya Alexeyevna, who

"What am^T afterwards.)

to you?” she cried mbrar'^^ / doing? What am I doing
Myshkin speTtaZrSfn^® convulsively. ' ^

they talked about. Darva

peaceably and happilv In hr^r parted

that night to inquire^ hnf v sent once more

asleep.^ Nastasya Filippovna had dropped

sent by Myshkin^to messengers were

senger who™ SarSd "^^s a third mes-
sw^ of drS^ceSd a perfect

Nastasya Fih'ppovna now tha^^*^^^^ Petersburg round
upset; that she was busv there was no trace of yesterday’s

<^essing before her weSine- S

there was an importanf- mn’ ^^^t very im'nute, '

P“t on and how-to put them'^on*^°° diamonds to ,

M^hkin was completely reassured.

people who saw ir^^andTtWnk^^-^^'^'^'”^

The wedding wS' ^

Nastasya Filippovna wac n°n o'clock in the evening;

o'clock-" onwa?J° a pJSna^

Lebedyev’s villa, and^^stll gathering round

yevna’s. The church hprar, round Darya Alexe- ,

Lebedyev and Kolya we5fiS f P o’clock. Vera

But they had a great deal to °° M5'shkin's account,

ing for a reception Sd n They were anang-

though they hardly expected prince’s rooms,

‘hng. Besides the^necLsarv npr^ a gathering after the wed-
the wedding, Lebedyev, th?]Ptit^^ present at

^na on his breast and r)pr„?^f’ the doctor with the

When Myshkin asked- LehpdiS -^o^oycvna had been invited.

‘a man he hardly knew” thp'i invited the doctor,

■'An order on his brSst' a complacently;

of the thing.” ■ ^ -^^o IS respected, for the style

hts, vrit^l^s^^ooked’o Burdovsky, in evening-

ivshkin qoite correct, onlv g-pUp. ofil7

forco^baT^rcaTtrrJS^

gathenog round the house At ^ ® sightseers who were

ast, at half-past seven, Myshkin

5o2

. .„r\'c by

nrdcf’. Makmg b'S ^5' ^.ho of

j the diurch, i:scorted followed by a ^ mto

r^t.. inTt of him. atiu^ Hisappearca lu

icaUi”. bo^^cd

A hum of

kl.sferus.umy.

.11 .'Tif’d tlio^.0 ■«/*ncs lihe ttia ^ _ . . .» Vi.^ mi
Hurrah '. _ enco ^ pnnccss^‘_ ^ ^

,vhcn she c.u - coals. J^‘,j.jocd mto cx^-= already,

crowd like ..go was tm .j-gady open, K , gjy and
them, indignahon^^gg ^'^^.fS^only slie

... - ». «

by both ^ creature and seized him

Rogozhin seized at once 1”

tile carriage. Then in a t™ almost carried her to

note and gave it to the driver out a hundred-rouble

ani hunS^for^y?u.” t^'^re’s

closed the dow. Tlie^coach^'a^^/^^^^*^^ Nastas3'a Filippovna and
and whipped up lus horce^ ir hesitate for one moment

was taken b3? surpricc* "An Pleaded afterwards that he
come to, and I wouldn’t ^ should ha%’e

describing the adventure n gol" he explained,

another carriage that stood hu ^o^<^ov£ky would have taken
but refinrfprj t . 00 by and have rushed nff Jn rmrciiif

‘ -And ^ ba^k by forcc’“ 1

agitaled.'l^'^ dec4d Burdovsky, greatly

time, After they ^d^gofoyf^Q^Pp'^^ ^Hoped to the station in
w;as on the point of steoninp Rogozhin

girl who was wearing m old hnt s^°P^

kerchief on her head^ ^ mantle and a k

^^W'ould **^‘*'j«

ff.enlyhoSg'^utttti^ione^^^ mantle?" he cried,

lost in amazement and trvinrr While she was still

the fifty-rouble note into h^r v. already thrust

kercliief, and flung them on th P’^^^d off the mantle and
Filippovna. Hergfr^ous^?:^ shoulders and head of Nastas3’a

A «mf“ %ZS 1 : “

astounding rapidity. When Tffu reached the church with
of people whom he did not the prince, numbers

There was loud talking shakimr"^ “P question him.

-No one left the church®’ ^^d even Jaughter.

groom would take the "news '^'^ted to see how the bride-

^d then, * ’ •”

^-ondition...,---’J^ded:^;Ho^^

5«4 ■

at "unexampled

philosophy”. Myslikm p|e nohced^d ^

Ld confident, so least home ^ by

wards. He seemed 'very ■was 1011°" ?. j__ptitsyn. Gavn

but he was not allowed. invited seemec

Kfident. so ^tle^t mm^^/toVth°:?'^Xhi5^^^^

wards. He seemed very .was 1011°"?. j__ptitsyn, Gavn

but he was not had been others, seemed

several o£ the . doctor, who, fib . ^yse was litera

Ardalionovilclr. and th® "’''I'LKlyshbin

indisposed to go fi°^^’ Hrom *e vera j^g Pf^°ncl

hede^d by an idle ero"d. rr dispute ^ g^od
hm W and Ubadyav^n ftey any coab

who were complete ^ ^ entering tbp • ^gd what ,

podtion. and were disputants- ^^ev and KeUf' ^

Mjahkin went °?l-,*'°„,,i^dng aside L^fi .ljitleman 'wbo

matter, and polltdi- ctout, greV'fi'^/^ eroup el others, ^
courteoudy addressed j^g^d of ^.pbe him

standing on ? iS'^eS^efand ^jTr

tovM him tn ho^n cam. » ^ in

avittd him t. honour , „m. in “ «o'"‘„Si;S
lomewhat disconcert ^ ^ Out oi j gjise as p . j

:ame a second and a ^ra-^ at tneir eager to 30 in

eight came in, out that no . ^ intruders,

doVg so. But 1‘ c«ns«""S ^ fSsraU

down, while a con desdy au^i ° ^^g were, or

this was done ^ er> m arrivals.^fi^ and turn ^ questions

SkSV .onn^"A f?'

good-bye with noisy heartinpqc ■ u

and the opinion that " ^ .'vishes were expressed,

it was all for the best” an A cn” ^eving, and that maybe

deed, to ask for champagne

younger ones.' When all the older guests checked the

and informed him • “Ynn a hent over to Lebedyev

fight, dis^cedTur^elve. f ^ ^ ^ had a

made a lot of newSnd^nd

Lebedyev, who was a litrip ^ ^nrads ! I know them ! "
“ ‘Thou hast hid these thinvc ^”d articulated;

hast revealed them untJ^baSs^^^T prudent, and

but now I’ll add that Cn/i h \ about him before,

bottomless pit. He and

was aching. Kolya^had^hp^n’H^^^^u His head

for his everyday ^suit and ?va^ his wedding clothes

very warmly. 4l^a’di^ nnT The? parted

but promised to come earlv ni^^^ about what had happened,
wards thatMyshldn had witness after-

and so concealed his intentinr!^'”’ parting,

was scarcely anyone left in th

Ippolit’s. huS^Zd fZ^ Bii'-dovsky went off to

Lebedyev remained for

tutoring them to their usu^'n^

glanced at Myshkin Hp w ''''aat out. she

table and his head hid<^n ' 'vith both elbows on the

him and touched tiS o^ “ S' softly rip to ,

m surprise, and for a minSf Afyshkin looked at her

recollecting and recoenisintr ^“^^.hymg to remember. But
extremely agitated, tSugh^au'^hTd^^' suddenly became

earnestly to knock at ^ ^ ^o beg Vera vei 3 ’

o’clock, in time to catch the morning, at seven

begged her eagerly not to promised. Myshkin

that too, and at ^t whpn^^^^ anyone. She promised

stopped her for the third opened the door to go Myshkin

then kissed her on her fornif ’ ^ hands, kissed them,

air, said: "TiU tTmiSow" ^ ‘‘pecuhar"

wards. • She went awav in described it after-

rather more cheerful in^hp ^°^oty about him. She felt
knocked at his^^ ^ seven o’clock she

for Petersburg would leaw • mformed him that the train
to her that he answered hnr ™ v of an hour. It seemed

a smile. He hadlardiv ^ and even with

bardly undressed that night, though he had

586

slept. He thought he might back fta^ to

{ore that he had thought it P -^g ^ town.

but her at that moment that he was g

CHAPTER XI

j qQon sitcr

K H hour later he was

SS a mother .as

At last the door of the flat oc P appeared. from

opened and a trim-looking o home,” she ann

‘TarfyonSemyonovitchis ,

the door. "Whom do you w-ant.

"Parfyon Semyonovitchl

"He is not at home.’ with Vtuld ^unos ^ _

The old servant looked at , T at home last mgh •

"Tell me. anyway, did he fjeep at n
did he come back alone ^ at him but tnad aioht?”

The old servant went on here . • •

"Wasn’t HastasyaFflippovnaw n pleased to b^ ^g
"But allow me to ask '^ho may Jo ^^g ..^ry mu

"Prince Lyov Nikolayevitch Mysmun,
friends.”

"He is not at home.’’

The woman dropped her O- .,•

"And Nastasya Filippovna.

"I know nothing about ma • . t,ack?”

"Stay, stayl Wlien coming,,

"We know nothing of tha ^ Glancing

The door was closed. . an hour s h

Myshkin determined to come
into the yard he saw the porter. v>

"Is Parfyon Semyonovitch at hom .uomer”
"Tes.” . , ^thathewasnotathome.

"How is it 1 was told just uo cgmyono-

"Did his servant tell you *at? ^ parfyon Semy
"No. the servant at his mother s.
vitch’s. but there was no answ^. commentea.

"Perhaps he’s gone out.’/ the po^^ ^gy away wm
he doesn’t say. .Amd sometime ^ a time. ..peterday?”

the rooms are locked up for three home yester

T7r\n Vnnw tfir a faCt t *

one dS’s^? sc“him°™‘™“' ‘‘■o 'rant door at

"That I T^todoy?"
know if she had baen." ^ ^ ^“k we woul

thej^vement bsHn^houJjf

pied by Rogozlun were all rooms occu-

habited by his mother were almocf’ ^’^ndows of the part in-

day. Myshkin crossed to I* 'vas a hot, bright

street and stopped to look onrp*m ^ke other side of the

not only closed, but almost ever^i°i? They were

He stood still a moment and curtains.

to hm that the comer of onp it suddenly seemed

a glimpse of Rogozhin’s face ke caught

vanished. He waited a little lon’w ”’°”^‘^ntary glimpse and it
n”e asata, but on socontf thoS-^S'' 'oco back and

■^°d who know's, perharx; hour.

^ MTrat dedded him wI?!AV 7" "’y "

IzmailovskyPolk, tothe lodd^e M get to the

occupied. Heknew tLt S^^Y^yaFikppov^

Pavlovsk three weeks before che request, she had left
fnend of hers, the widow of'a *ke house of a

a family, who let well-fumishprt '^^‘^ker, an estimable lady with
her hving by doing so it

a /®^^ye-Hih'ppovnamovedforthp^^^ ^^™^^kie that, when
d kept her lodging* it wac vp ^ tkne to Pavlo\'sk, she

^"^ ^nt the night at those InHcn’^ kkely in any case that she
0°*+^ brought her that f‘”®^."'kore Rogozhin, of course.

On the way it struck him that ^^J^^idrin took a cab.

^s, because it was unlikelv begun by doing

^rajght to Rogozhin’s. He reYiPml have gone at night
T’ilippovna did not P°^^or's words that

bme come often, what Sni* n ^ke did not at any

i,|°g°?k^°’s now? ComfortincT . ^duced her to stay at

^®^ched the lodgings at ^ reflections.

To his great amazemSt^lfVn ^ than alive. '

hpf °t Nastasya Filinnovn ^dow's they had heard

^fore, but they aU ran oSn®' that day or the day

ijf// ““roerous family_^ ^t him, as at a wonder. The
„ .ktteen—ran out after their^Yfi,”^ every age between seven
las? nf' followed bv surrounded Myshkin,

tast of all the grandmoC 1 7 J yellow-faced auht, and

mer, a vep, aged lady in spectacles. The ,
5o8

in and sit down,

lady of If oncSat

which iMyshkini-^ wedding was ^Jout tlie wedding

who he was were dying to as}" ^Sig of them for

day before, and ^ fact that he was ^fwitlr him at

and about the f iSe been at that ^omentjU

the woman, wlm ^ delicacy to ask- exclam-

Pavlovsk, but had . -^ „^QUt the wedding- obliged

he satisfied thmrcunosityabou^^^^^^^^^^ *loui^ Finally.

ations of wonder in outline only, of

totellahnost&e w o agitated tfjn's till he got an

the council of th® - ^ icnock at Fog? everj'tliing-

fiist tlung certamly wa positively from for certain),

answer and to (and that he no to a German

in her excitement a j^fterwaids that

passed tlie ''^completely were almost giving

Myshkin got np comp pat^^f,

he had turned feanm y i through tlic to act with

their voices, he for his ad - . ^p j^f gome hole -

him and _jcd' rhey advise address of

address, it apPff "’n,omcnt and gave "n.^^ a fit fn e

Mvshkin thought , ^ the one w ^ocozliin’s. This time
Kad stayed off even

>5% Sot" S. “S\to tdt i;.;. E»t',r

SSS'tts,'"

l5er^^and"evpn'^? mind to come back once more, two hours
mJw tW Zf ni ™ if necessary; but

to SemySi^vS;

he^vanSd^ F?n^^" ^ot even understand what

Sat thl reS^ ^^3^ let slip, he rvas able to guess

Do4rahS?r^ fn quarrelled with Nastasya Filip-

of her of latp « before, so that she had heard nothing

him unSTSSn? f '^dnost now to make

had married nil th not care to hear anything “if she

to iT^av Pnnces m the world”. Myshkin made haste

she^mivhf hn-i/e °^c“iyed to him among other conjectures that
Rovo/Hn nf Z she had done before, and

I coSlSl?v finT® gone Mter her or perhaps with her. "If
he miisf -if ^^mmembered, however, that

at onre ^ hotel ^d he hurried to Liteyny; there he was

have someT^n^ ^^^®d him if he would not

would The ^ miswered absent-mindedly that he

half nn hei,^’ furious with himself at wasting

that he Tvnc and only later on grasped the fact

the lunch that was

in that dinm " ^ spsation gained possession of him

fullv to her^ comdor, a sensation that strove pain-

r 1 but he still could not guess what that

ha^dll^Vno^® thought was. He went out of the hotel at last,
Rnt where 7 doing; his head was in a whirl.

Poe , . He rushed off to Rogozhin's again,

rino- fie^ ™ back; there was no answer to Ins

anif’h °|d Madame Rogozhin's; the door was opened

and nrioht1^^°^^ Pariyon Semyonovitch was not at home
at heS be away for three days. Myshkin ^vas disconcerted
at being looked at as before with such \vild curiosity. This time
he could not find the porter at all. He crossed over to the

Sed , "P tbe endows and

walked up and dovm m the stifling heat for half an hour, pos-

This bme nothing was stirring; the windows did
uot open, the white curtains were motionless. He made un his
mind that he certainly had been mistaken before that it^was
ms fMcy; that the ivindows in fact were so opaque and dirtv
that It would have been difficult to see, even if anyone had
pMped out. Relieved by tlus reflection he set off to the widow
lady s at Izmailovsky Polk.

There they were already expecting Iiim. The lady herself had

590

ta S b“ i St™ ' H ' S” >° R"8»Un's asain ”

|ba„°y“rss haXS SS\?Mfp‘aXtto. '^T T,

thing about if or. if L dTd not

and easily than he could Th^l’ P ® ^ hnd out more quickly

that Roetir,!fcd . 'SirT^X “1

Rogozhm, as he was lately at tJie ffneral then in i

suddenly as he was here in fL ^ • i “ the park, then

waitedforhim wtlfa knTfe HereeT

as tliey looked at him ufre S the ^ t oyesnow, his eyes
tliat tliought wluch had Iven eff ^ c^arkness. He shuddered:
came into lus head. " stnvnng for expression suddenly

he wrSh)y5o^i^?mf in Petersburg, even though

then. Anywav if Roeorhin *^'’^i jntenfaon, as he had done

be nowhere else for him tn tliere would

did noI Sw^^ tTul

Myslikin would go to the same hotel af h suppose that

tiS' looking for him hem If Se^^^
kno^vs, perhaps he had great need^f LS '

oo lie muscG 3.nd the idc 3 , seeinod fr» iiiTr» -r^
possible. He could not have exolained^fhS f
thought why he should be sudd^nlf so nSesS^ m Rn
and why it was so impossible that Jh..,. Rogozhm,

the lho4ht tvas a„ op^SveS: XlTh

not come,” Myshkin went on thinkinp- "hi ■
come if he is unhappy; and he is certaiA to be uX°ppy ^

Of course, with that convicUon he ought tn hnfr» ‘ • ,

at home in his room, waiting for Roeozhin^bnt hJP’ remained
to re»,ai„ avith this now wl,; he sSSd „„ XS"'!?”'’’''?

'wh'Ttl'^- ii T“ ■■Xe’’.X* b/”w‘

What if he suddenly comes out of that comer an,i Pt

at the state?” flashed through his mind, as he reached th7Lme

spot. But no one came out. He passed out at the sate wt

out into the street, wondered at the dense crowd of neoDl'p whn

had flocked into the streets at sunset (as they ahrays do in

592

• the direction of

Petersburg in snmtner-time^and ^ the an

Gorohovy. Fifty touched his eibow,

someone in the crowd , t -want you.”

undertone said in his e • brother,

“Lyov 'Nikoiayevitch, invfuliv, gabbling

ft was Rogozhin. began telling ^ how he had

Strange to say, Sculating the worg.^^^

at a great rate and h^^^^ ^ hotel in th^ coW ^ «‘Coine
just eVtel un.:.peete(lly ans>ver

"I ve been there, K S _

along.” . 1 -t- uic answer, n _ .

isi expei-icu lu T3„„r,vViin unexp^.-. —

"I’ve been there, Fogoz

alone.** . j his answer, ^ Wheti ne

Myshkin was f when he reahsed it-

till two minutes later a 1 alarmed ^^a step in fr®"^

reflected on the answ , ^yalking nln^n^ . anyone they
tently at Rogozlun, him, not gl^^^g.anical care,

of him, looking straight beto^^ '’'^th med^ ^ have

passed, making way at niy , '

"Whv didn’t you ask tpr suddenly-

icai

if you have
and as

im, looKing '^^her people

passed, making way at niy , '

"Why didn’t you Myshkin suddenly

been atV hotel?” aske^^ thought

Rogozhin stopped, lonk ^hon, sa^ - along here to

though he did not take in you go st^iS her side. And
"1 say, Lyov I’ll walk on tne o

the house, yo\'^’^° togehier. . • . ^le opposite

mind that we keep tog , j-oad to tl'° on and seeing

assured by ?'ly® r ^rc pa''emenh j ^ot let s j.

frL” KoeSS; »< «“C «»«'>

"si Q-cy «5“ K

some reason, though j^ogozhm o

beckoned to him.

stand it a - house,

road to In?- piUppovna m f

. ...antmcbchindUicc

"Yes-
.. And wa>

"Yes.”

‘‘How, was it you?”

fhpA« “ Moreover, Ins heart was throbbing so violently

S *“. was^sffent SSe

“S T '!?• “• ft "'K, dreamily,

road aeain “31^ .73’ J*e Mid suddenly, preparing to cross the
the stTMt ’ that' ydhrself. Let us go separately in

?on ^^ei.-' • • ■ on diHelent sides. .

ope’n aJ bSS?'^ R old lady’s part of the house were still

SIm the wh.-M ^ ^ ‘^tosed, and in the

sSSJs^AWhpf curtains over them seemed still more con-

the navemenf Re top house from the other side of

straight un the Qt ^Me of the pavement, went

straight up the steps and beckoned to him. Myshkin crossed
over and joined him. JuyMUvm crosseo

this ^or^^^thnt^T ° * toiow that I've come home now. I said

Pavlovsk, and I left word at

" We'U cr • TOth a sly and almost pleased

smile. We II go m and no one will hear.” ^

The key was already in his hand. As he went up the sfair-

hf^toVoTn n.^- at Myshkin to ivam
him to go up quietly; qmedy he opened the door of his rooms,

let My^kin m, tollowed him in cautiously, closed the door
behind him, and put the key in his pocket
"Come along,” he articulated in a whisper.

He had not spoken above a whisper since they were in
Liteyny. In spite of all tes ouhvard composure, he was inwardly
in a state of intense agitation. When they went into the diaw'-
ing-room, on their \ray to the study, he went to the window
and mystenously beckoned to Myshkin.

"■^yhen you began ringing this morning, I guessed at once
that it was you. I went on tiptoe to the door and heard you
talking to Pafnufyevna. And I gave her orders as soon as it
was daylight that if you or anyone from you or anyone what-
ever began knocking at my door, she wasn’t to say I was here
on any account, especially if j^ou yourself came for me, and I
gave her your name. And afterwards when j'ou went out, the

594

1 T-ppos a look-oTit

Itagh, stack

and watches in tlie street. standing 1

aside the it happened.” liyshkin articulated

at me. . . . that s now ^ M.ysi

“Where is . . • Nastasya PP ^

breathlessly. „ ;Rogozhia brought out

"i^bp is . . . here.

theap^ent. The the room. T^r and: had it not

ends. It was very dark . jj^ng to get dar^® to make out •

Petersburg summer "^^te °^ould have been dim^^^^^ curtamed.
been for the fuh rooms '^th tlrough y^^^y r

S”SS^

hand he made ^l^f^c^almost pouched My jj round table^

his chair up so that hc^^ S be

^"'^“do^^Tiet’s^tay to know tlr^>^%o^ctim«

staying at that «« sub]^ '^y to tlic corridor I mou^

approach an mr^ ^oon as 1 gm j am tor mm av

SStT.

alongj''' then/ '"' before.

^J^ Wfedibccurt.- ' ■ ■ ^

"Come in " ®‘°°d still anri <,

curtain JiShki^*'

darf w '"I"' ^

"One can see

,' J can scarcely f ogozbfn.

«ttercd°a'^word^ui°°''''^ f still.

Jfieart beat so vini "'^de they stood bv of them

the dcath-h>?°?M^^^titSed Myshkin's

now accustonied the room

• "’hole bed S ^^^hness! so^h.V i '"^'cs were by

steep; not the faTn^f ^^^oponil^^n " °nt thi

The sleeper wac not tlje fainteef if perfectly motionless

"heet and the from heTd

around in disoM ^gure lay there qfr/^f could be seen

^.ven on V7oliV\}he foot S £ bed

silk dress flowf r^ had been flnnf '• fj? beside it, and

the bed there was +f"'^,Phbons. On a ^

fnd thrown do^n of diamof dl i head of

heap of lace and n ond of the bpTlu^ °tf

out from undSl if ^*tte lace the tn^c a crumpled

out of marble anr?° f ^'t seemed as thnf °if f f ^°ot peeped
that as he hokpsi horridly still at tieen carved

death-like noom became ^°°hed and felt

hed ^‘dSmff^T there was f f still and

Tet’s eo " p'^ on the pillo\v Mv^hh' ^ "'hich flew over

sat do^vn fn Vi, ^°Sozhin touched

.trembled moref^*^ fadn/oL^™^‘*i?^'^T went out and
eyes off RLff f ^joIen«v\nf? ®§'ain. Myshkin

«ogo2hm's face. ^over took his quktion-

596

"I notice you are trembling, Lyov Nikolayevitch,” Rogozhin
said at last, “almost as much as you did when you had your
illness. Do you remember, in Moscow? Or as you had once
before a fit? I can’t think what I should do witli you now. . .

M5^hkin listened, straining every effort to understand, and
still Iris eyes questioned him.

"Was it . . , you?" he brought out at last, nodding towards
the curtain.

“It was I,” Rogozhin whispered, and he looked down.

They were silent for five minutes.

“For if," Rogozhin began, continuing suddenly as though Iris
speech had not been interrupted, “you are ill, have your fit and
scream, someone may hear from the street or the yard, and
guess that there are people in the flat. They’ll begin knocking
and come in . . . for they all tliink I am not at home. I
haven't lighted a candle for fear they should guess from the
street or tlic yard. For when I am away, I take the key and
no one ever comes in to tidy the place for three or four days in
my absence. That’s my habit. So I took care they shouldn’t
find out we are here. ...”

"Stay," said Myshkin. “I asked the porter and the old
woman this morning whether Nastasya Filippovna hadn't
stayed the night here. So they must know already.”

“I know toat you asked Uiem. I told Pafnutyevna that
Nastasya Filippovna came here yesterday and went away to
Pavlovsk and that she was only here ten minutes. And they,
don’t know she stayed the night here — no one knows it. I came
in with her yesterday quite secretly, as we did just now. I’d
been thinking on the way that she wouldn’t care to come in
secretly, but not a bit of it ! She wiiispcred, she walked on tip-
toe, she drew her skirts round her, and held them in her hand
that diey might not rustle. She shook her finger at me on the
stairs — it was you she ws afraid of. She w'as mad with terror
in the train, and it was her ovm wish to stay the night here.

I thought of taking her to her lodgings at the widow’s — but not
a bit of itl 'He’ll find me there as soon as it’s daylight,’ she
said, 'but you will hide me and early to-morrow morning we’ll
set off for Moscow’, and tlicn she wanted to go somewhere to
Orel. And as she went to bed she kept sa}fing we’d go to
Orel. . . .’’

“Stay: what arc you going to do now, Parfyon. Wiat do you
•want to do?"

“I wonder about you, yon keep trembling. We'll stay the

597

here topether Tim

4vzr'’'‘^‘<f<:^°!.lfuf,iT.’y:

put for an how thl PU'ot alSht tTi®"

^ler all tlie Hmr. doming cxcent fnr ♦>, at. ^ '''ont

Another m^r «,en I wenUo

I^e a smell En ^ °f ts that it’s evening.

“""Co he.:!: ' "■ ^

.What’s* fhn ^ook in th« ^°u see how she is

'"“4SS''^„'?'' C Stags':? %«•

so much that ho ^ ".jU'ter, seeing that usked

"Slav TMi oC’fe'V"’ ■:-•>■* f™». w.

la? fo^“do„T *2“ • • ■ aiiO wa''/?,",'‘,‘««'a Ba Oom. . . .

tiand, so tliat „ ^”‘^®^tand it all yet T WTn?^ ^ ^^ow yet,

Mutteri^f oil SJ ,^°u uf that befL-

upthe T.“®uninteUigiblewnrHr^^ ’^'^u^'^hand. ..."

possibly even^i^r?^ evident that he had making

=ofi SS The pre 4 „?nS^°^

set on thpiV u°t room for two ”’^^t he had lain on

effort, he S J side by 2de th^f® und he

cushions off « Sss thl ^thmuch

the b^d^M ^cl ImT&eS ''“ous

3 ud eagerly took him "'ent up t^r '’f

y took hnn by tlie arm, ra,"ed Z Sfe. '

598 ^ to the

bed, but MyslAin 1°™^° lie down on

3Ss “tr&nd

bi, head, "beean*^* „pe„ ac a^d^- 3 „eb a

be a smell . • • ^ ^ ,-„.ps of ilowers, ancl tney p e tyevna

has got i.B » '““Sil^ oTbringing the™ ■?•

debaous smell, I . ghc is inquisitive.

would have been su ^ My^lddn assented. ^ ? But

“She is inqaisihve, WJ - ^ j,o,vers aU round

“Shall ive buy n?,f uV-^id to see her wth flowers
I think, friend, it w'lH make -

thatlinayknow. didyo Rogozhin

at the church door . • • . j meant to or question

“1 don't know rnewbat surpnsed at the q

answered dryly, secin g Pnvlovsk?”

and not understanding k y°m\nfle is tliis, Lyov

“Did you aver take ^ ^bout the kn^.^ ^

“No, never. All 1 J ^ pause, 1 t corning

Nikolayevitch,” he added ^ SUme. . - ■

locked drawer this ^°^ {^£enlyiag® the knife went

about four o'clock. ^J^iSgEcams strange

And ... and ... . smother ttog the lef bfJ^Jflo,ved on

in three or four mches • • • tablespoonful o
there "wasn’t more than h _ . . t agita-
to her chemise, tkere vras w called internal

»gi=i .ShtSke^Sn — S4"

“No!” answered Myshkin, H
at Rogozhin.

599

They

bolh began lisfeJbig.^'"’ ^ ‘tawing-rooin.
^Footsteps.”

"IhSir! not?"

"A?

here . . " ’ broueht out aft

^^0 brought a na 1 . . ^

^nde?^ A tJarySkS^'^ He ^'®

his heart SeLl^ S®"' of hoS;]e?A*°°^ hut wth a

hme past he hTd^^ suddenly that at thS weighed on

uod had been dr,- sajdng not what ho ®°nient and a long

holding in hk ? "i ^o4 thing aL^^hTu^’^^hig to saf

yita, “P and c4eTMsV“;'’'-5“Wp.»o

but his eyes SL^ ^ not to hear?nH ^^fP^hin lay

staring fixedlf M darkness anrf^. ^ his action;

„ Mjii-n i™ .,„ ,__ ■ ■ *“• "'■'> "■shed

began suddenly and incoherently muttering in a loud harsh
voice, he began shouting and laughing. Then Myshkin stretched
out his trembling hand to him and softly touched his head, his
hair, stroking them and stroking his cheeks ... he could do
nothing elsel He began trembling again, and again his legs
seemed suddenly to fail Irim. Quite a new sensation gnawed at
his heart with infinite anguish. Meanwhile it had become quite
light; at last he lay down on the pillow as though utterly help-
less and despairing and put his face close to the pale and
motionless face of Rogozhin; tears flowed from his eyes on to
Rogozhin’s cheeks, but perhaps he did not notice then his own
tears and was quite unaware of them.

Anyway, when after many hours the doors were opened and
people came in they found the murderer completely unconscious
and raving. Myslikin was sitting beside him motionless on the
floor, and every time the delirious man broke into screaming or
babble, he hastened to pass his trembling hand softly over his
hair and cheeks, as though caressing and sootliing him. But by
now he could understand no questions he was asked and did
not recognise the people surrounding him; and if Schneider
himself had come from Switzerland to look at his former pupil
and patient, remembering the condition in which Myshkin had
sometimes been during the first year of Iris stay in Switzerland,
he would have flung up his hands in despair and would have
said as he did then: “An idiot!’’

CHAPTER XII

CONCLUSION

T he schoolmaster’s widow, hurrying off to Pavlovsk, had
gone straight to see Darya Ale.xeyevna, who was agitated
by the events of tire previous day, and telling her all tliat she
knew threw her into a regular panic. The rivo ladies decided at
once to get into communication with Lebedyev, who as a house-
holder and a friend of his lodger, was also in agitation. Vera
Lebedyev told them all that she knew. By Lebedycv's advice
the}' decided to set off to Petersburg all three together, in order
as quickly as possible to prevent what might very easily come
to pass. So it came about that at about eleven o’clock next
morning Rogozhin’s flat was broken open in the presence of the
police, of Lebedyev, of the ladies, and of Rogozhin’s brother,
Semyon Scmyonovitch, who lived in the lodge. Matters were
greatly facilitated by tire evidence of the porter, that he had

6oi

ff®" Semyonovitch ih^

fifteen veaK' i““t^"^ circumstancej he

g.' ™oS£'':ar„& *h'’“ ^ sVSSts

old 'S™Ms 'sSl'lv^'" SiJliSaSion of fh! latte? e ®7°“

S’z, P?«rr4'» •-“» -

„ l-obedyairM” 'SaSS™|r“^” -'o ^ '’' "■°

Km?' r """5' eo Svfebe?" "''’ “"■O'
?Retd“'” =““oTL“bT??4'° “'i'^-d ata “I?

^ fortnight £ sooner

he ittached Sre^yfffected by whaThad°h^^®‘^'l^^

Atoadrovo, “ a^g *7' 'o, his mother. Nina

Ss active and ni?? ^““g^tful for his

his fffortl- ^^"Scment of Mr'shkin’-; ™“' ^oag other
R^dSS'i'id long bafoS7°b\Sl'”5.™>”5'5' ‘'"a'o
friend? t^ia rt^^^ont from the otwl ^^''^cny Pavlovitch
hnew aboiJt t? ''"as the firet to ™ade

not mistaV and Myshkin’s nr*, ail he

the •“ ^ astimate^Shhn condihon. He was

care a???ff “ the lucld^; ^aviovitch took

in s 4 ?t 7 ^fy^hkin was tek?n and by his

iaten£"to As Yevgeny PaSl^f ^ Schneider's

to spend a longlimi £ §oae abroad and

m Europe, openly declaring that

he is a superfluous man in Russia, he visits his sick friend at
Sclmeider’s pretty often, at least once every few montlis. But
Schneider frowns and shakes his head more ominously every
lime; he hints at a permanent derangement of the intellect; he
does not yet say positively that recovery is out of the question,
hut he allows himself phrases suggestive of most melancholy
possibilities. Yevgeny Pavlovitch takes this very much to
heart; he has a heart, which is evident from the fact that Kolya
writes to him, and that he even sometimes answers him.
Another curious fact is known about liim, and as it shows a
kindly trait in his cliaracter, we hasten to mention it. After
every visit to Dr. Schneider, Yevgeny Pavlovitch, besides
writing to Kolya, sends a letter to another person in Petersburg
giving the most sympathetic and minute account of Myshkin's
state of health. Together with tire most respectful expression of
devotion those letters sometimes (and more and more frequently)
contain a frank statement of views, ideas, and feelings — in fact
something approacliing a feeling of warm friendship is revealed
by them. The person who is in correspondence with him (though
the letters are not very frequent) and who has won so much
attention and respect from him is Vera Lebedyev. We havo
never been able to ascertain how such relations arose between
them. No doubt they began at the time of Myshkin’s break-
down, when Vera Lebedyev was so distressed that she fell posi-
tively ill. But exactly what incident brought about his acquaint-
ance and friendship we do not know.

We have alluded to these letters chiefly because they con-
tained ne\TO of the Epanchins, and especially of Aglaia. Of her
Yevgeny Pavlovitch wrote in a rather disconnected letter from
Paris that after a brief and extraordinary attachment to an exile,
a Polish count, she had suddenly married him against the wishes
of her parents, who had only given their consent at last be-
cause there were possibilities of a terrible scandal. Then after
almost six months’ silence Yevgeny Pavlovitch gave his corre-
spondent a lengtliy and detailed account of how, on his last
visit to Dr. Schneider’s, he had met there Prince S. and all the
.Epanchin family (except, of course, Ivan Fyodorovitch, who
was kept in Petersburg by business). It rvas a strange meet-
ing; they had aU met Yevgeny Pavlovitch with extraordinary
delight: Adelaida and Alexandra were unaccountably grateful to
I him "for his angelic kindness to the unhappy prince", Liza-
veta Prokofyevna wept bitterly at the sight of Myshkin in his
afflicted and humiliated condition. Obviously everything had
^ 603

been forgiven iiim p •

“ future Adel^;^'

alJow her impetuouft ®P°n^aneoi^']J^aL*^^^ JnevifaWy
sense and experinn be ^’ded h„ S^- “"^^JgingJy

famijy ce. Moreover, ^ nainfn]^^”'^^

wjth the exhe h^ expenences the

Eveiyi]iin„ tliaV ^ '^,"’3de a profound ^ adventure

Polish count hadl^fK^'^^ dreaded npon her.

fresh surprises of “onths come frglafa to the

that the c?u?t wnY bad nev“ dre°,^"f' together witlr

exile, it wa^ o,S f ^ ^ counl a^dTh

past. He hXi fai ^ ^°^e dark an'd^ ^eaijy an

bis sou], ^Slaia by the ext™ “ the

ber to such a do 'vith mobility of

eame a member before she^^^^'- fascinated

bad. nroreo^S ^.fj^ttteefor'^^^^^^ be-

Pnest. who eain^ ^ ^ eonfessionaJ of a ^ and

vast estates of th %^°^Piote ascendanoTr ‘■^Ebrafed Catholic

ProkofyeU^l^fl^. “«nrof ^be

turned out to Pnnee S. almo^f • b® bad given Liza-

of the Wedding the ''^bat was evidence,

bad succeeded in t ®"d his friend thl ' 7"^° months
so that for com ^‘bng Ag]aia comnipS ®®Ebrafed confessor
There was, M fac^a^^bs they had^not eve^’^^* b®^ family,
fyevna, her daimhf ^®®^ deal to sav^ w t ber. . ,

distressed by ap even Prince's^ ha

iuefant even to au^^ terrible businesc" ™ach

Yevgeny to some S? in ^bey were re-

knew the cfo '^tch, though thew ^ ^ oonversation with
E-okofye^ntSlsI be alreTdf

to Yevgeny PavJo to be back in T? Lizaveta

‘•“^sSod eS" ‘ “"S'''’I£‘LT^S' %'"■"•» “'y

f ^ fbis, ah iSr,?/ whims; it! S^o'h b®^- "We'vi had
^®"tasy, and ah abroad, and fh£^„r be reasonable. And
"’Y words, vou-lf ^br®®d are o^ fW Yoms is ah a
wrathfuhy a^she yourselH'^ fantasy . . . remember

604